


SWAT Kats: Foundation of Trust

by Ericobard



Series: Foundation of Trust [1]
Category: SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron
Genre: F/M, How Callie Got her Communicator, It All Started with a Car, Just Like her Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 41,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ericobard/pseuds/Ericobard
Summary: For one newly appointed Deputy Mayor Calico "Callie" Briggs, the city she loves seems to be spinning towards destruction. But two fateful encounters with two very different sets of kats will convince her that perhaps Megakat City is still worth fighting for...so long as you know who to trust.





	1. Foundation of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a disillusioned young deputy mayor struggles with keeping a city and her father's old clunker of a car held together, and finds two different sets of kats who have the skill and talent to help with both...

**_SWAT KATS: FOUNDATION OF TRUST_ **

By Eric “Erico” Lawson

*******

 

_Megakat City_

_Museum of Natural History_

 

 

            When Calico Briggs had been offered the position of Deputy Mayor right out of college, she had jumped at the opportunity. She had worked as an intern in City Hall, and her interest in politics and the law had set up her career path. She’d never thought that she’d be able to land such a position so quickly, and had come into the job with high hopes. Here was an opportunity to make Megakat City great again. The Enforcers had been struggling for some time to control the rising tide of violence and criminal activity, in spite of their large budget. That incident where one of their own jets had crashed into their brand new skyport headquarters some years ago hadn’t helped them any either. Finally, she had thought at the time of her hire, she would have the power she needed to save the city she was born in, the city she loved.

            It had taken all of two weeks to crush the hope right out of her. Mayor Manx saw her as someone to do all of the work while he went off and hobnobbed. One proposal after another was stymied by the City Council, the budget committee was irreconcilable, and those with the money to actually make a difference were only concerned with their bottom line.

            The blond-furred queen took a moment to examine herself with the compact from her purse before she stepped out of her sedan. It was an old green sedan with gullwing doors that had belonged to her father, a proud tom who worked on automobiles his entire life up until he’d died from myocardial infarction. She could have gone more into debt to buy something newer, but sentiment and the crushing weight of student loans kept the young deputy mayor from trying for it. She knew this car, and trusted it in spite of its quirks.

            What she wouldn’t give to find some mechanics who actually knew how to fix a vintage automobile and were honest about how much it cost.

 

            _Another visit to a municipal facility which the mayor was scheduled to attend…and another one which he sent me to because he got called away for ‘urgent business.’ Sure. If urgent business means “I’m due on the golf links with some of my political supporters because I care more about fundraising than doing my actual job.”_

            Callie sighed and made her way inside of the building. Dr. Abigail Sinian had called for a meeting with the mayor regarding the budget, and Callie knew it wasn’t going to be a happy one. In order to pay for his latest tax cut (which only helped out people in the top quarter income bracket once you looked through the fine print), Mayor Manx had taken a slice out of the pie which ordinarily went to the fine arts and cultural attractions.

            To her surprise, the archaeologist and curator wasn’t there to greet her. Callie had met with the good doctor twice before and she’d been met at the front doors both times. Callie frowned and made her way inside, her stiletto heels clicking against the granite floor with an echoing cadence.

            “Hello? Dr. Sinian?”

            Still no answer came. Giving up, she made her way back to the offices, and on coming nearer, the faint sounds of someone speaking up excitably from a television set drew her interest.

            Lingering around a small set were Dr. Sinian, two of her colleagues, and one of the security guards. Callie crossed her arms and let her tail swish behind her.

            “I’m not early, am I?” She inquired. Dr. Sinian jerked her head up, and the brunette looked over to the blond in chastened shock.

            “Oh, Deputy Mayor Briggs! I apologize for not receiving you…we were distracted…”

            Callie walked over and looked past the archaeologist to the television, and winced at the sight.

            “Oh, no.” It was a high speed chase, with the Enforcers in pursuit after an armored car. “What now?” Callie murmured. She looked down to the running tickertape at the bottom of the broadcast, but the security guard filled her in first.

            “Some goons in flak jackets hijacked an armored car after it had loaded up at Megakat First National. They all piled in and they’ve been running since. The Enforcers are chasing them, but the news chopper said they’re packing some serious firepower. They’ve already gunned down two cruisers.”

            Callie’s blood ran cold at the news. Where did these maniacs come from? Did they see Megakat City as nothing but a jewel to be plundered? She couldn’t recall, but a part of her swore that it had never been as bad as this when she was little.

            “Ah. Finally, the Enforcers are getting serious.” The security guard said. He pointed to the TV set just in time for the deputy mayor to see a pair of Enforcer helicopters closing in on the armored car.

            Any relief she felt at the Enforcers taking their jobs seriously was crushed when one of the thugs stuck his head out of the back of the vehicle and leveled a dangerous looking piece of hardware. A second later, it fired a rocket, which streaked up and behind it and crashed straight into the lead chopper. The multimillion dollar helicopter was blown apart in a fireball, and the wreckage with its crew careened down towards the highway, flattening on impact and burning brightly.

            “Kats alive.” Dr. Sinian said in a fearful hush. She raised her paw up to her mouth and covered her open mouth. “Those…those poor soldiers…”

            Callie bit the inside of her cheek. More deaths. More expenses. More letters of sympathy. The Enforcers were getting their tails handed to them every day, with fewer victories to show for it, and the enemies of Megakat City were growing bolder and more dangerous. She didn’t see a way out of it. Not as things were.

 

            “Wait, look!” The security guard shouted. The camera inside of Kats Eye News’ chopper twitched rapidly and then focused away from the highway and into the air, towards a fast moving dot of black that was closing in on the chase.

            Then came the roar of its engines, and the ominous silhouette of what had once been an F-14 “Tomkat” fighter…but which was now something more.

            “It’s those vigilantes!” Dr. Sinian exclaimed. “The…oh, hell, what do you call them.”

            “The SWAT Kats.” Deputy Mayor Briggs said. She’d been privy to the after-action reports from the Enforcers, as well as two high-level staff meetings that Commander Ulysses Feral had begrudgingly held with the mayor’s office. There were two of them, real names unknown, and that’s what they called themselves when they broke into the Enforcer encrypted radio channels. Their jet was the Turbokat, and to the utter frustration of the Enforcers, it outflew and outfought anything that they had in their arsenal. They had been prowling around Megakat City for a month now, usually showing up after the Enforcers had gotten their teeth knocked out, and then solving the crisis in minutes, although usually with a boatload of collateral damage. The Enforcers hated them. The city’s insurance adjusters hated them. The public wasn’t sure of what to make of them. The only thing Callie knew for sure was that when they showed up, the crisis got resolved.

            It was both strange and sad that it took a bunch of vigilantes, who probably were a couple of rich playboys in their off-time if their hardware was any indicator, to solve the problems that Megakat City had.

 

            The Turbokat flew down towards the highway, menacing black with gleaming red clawmarks over its surface and a blue nosecone. It passed by the last surviving Enforcer helicopter without a thought.

            “What are they doing? Are they going to fire a missile at that armored car? They’ll kill everyone in it!”

            “No…They don’t kill.” Callie murmured softly. She too wondered what those two mysterious vigilantes had in mind, but if their past track record was any clue, they meant to do this with nonlethal means, regardless of the efforts of the bazooka-firing morons inside the truck.

            Then something wholly unexpected happened. The Turbokat launched something from underneath its belly. Not a missile or a bomb…

            But as it unfolded and landed with a squeal of tires, a _motorcycle._ Again, heavily modified, and with a blue and red color scheme. One of them, the thinner more lanky one, was driving it. The Turbokat rose up in the air and away from the gunfire of the goons inside the truck, and then the other SWAT Kat on the motorcycle came closer towards it.

            In desperation, the gun-toting hijackers threw everything they could at it. Gunfire bounced off of the thing harmlessly. Even a bazooka round failed to connect, with the bike veering clear of the explosion right in the nick of time.

            When it got close enough, the SWAT Kat’s motorcycle acted, firing what looked to be a small stream of glittering projectiles at the truck. The armored vehicle’s rear tires exploded from the hit, and the thing tipped over sideways, skidding to a halt.

            “Oh, wow. Unbelievable. How in the…How did they fit a _motorcycle_ inside a jet?!” The security guard sputtered.

            Dr. Sinian chuckled and shook her head. Right as Enforcer reinforcements showed up in the form of a line of patrol cars and two more helicopters, the Turbokat descended down to the highway. The motorcycle seemed to jump up into the air and landed safely inside the jet’s belly, and once the bomb doors closed, the Turbokat turned around and bugged out, causing a sonic boom that made the Kats Eye News Chopper and its cameraman rattle and shake. “Well, that’s one way to stop a high speed chase.” She turned the television off and looked back to Callie. “Now then. Sorry for the delay. Why don’t we go into my office? Deputy Mayor?”

            Callie shook the last of the shock from her piercing green eyes and nodded. “Yes. That’ll be fine.”

            “A little star-struck, Callie?” Dr. Sinian teased the young deputy mayor.

            Calico Briggs managed not to roll her eyes as they walked out. “No. I was just thinking about how much more I’ll have to endure of Commander Feral’s rhetoric when he pressures the mayor to declare them public enemies.”

            Unfortunately, her cool voice and demeanor couldn’t hide the excited swish in her tail from Dr. Sinian’s knowing eyes.

 

***

 

_Garfield’s Auto Repair_

_One Week Later_

 

 

            “It’s shot.” The mechanic, whose name was ‘Larry’ according to his nametag, slammed the hood of Callie’s old green sedan down with a heavy, resounding thud. Callie tried not to wince, and failed.

            “What do you mean, shot?”

            “I mean that the engine’s rattling and knocking, the timing belt is blown, your fuel line needs replacing, the brake pads are worn down to nubs, the wiring looks like it’s been chewed on…It’ll be $5,000, easy, to get this crate up and running again. You’d be better off just buying something new.”

            “This was my father’s car.” Callie growled through her teeth. “It’s got heart. It’s made of good, old-fashioned Megakat steel, and I am **not** replacing it.”

            Larry sighed and wiped his paws on an oilrag, then ran his hand through his hair. The oilrag hadn’t helped him much. “Okay. So we’re back to the price tag. They don’t make parts for this anymore.”

            “Wait a second.” Callie tightened her claws inside of her fist so she wouldn’t feel the need to pop them openly. “If they don’t make parts, how are you coming up with that price tag?”

            “There’s a company we work with out of Fursdale which specializes in vintage cars, and they might have parts for this…but they don’t come cheap.” Larry shrugged. “Sorry, Missus Briggs, but as good as this car used to be, now it’s more of a clunker. You’d be better off trading it in...no, scratch that. At this point, it’s only good for scrap.”

 

            Callie fought down the twitch above her eyelid. Taking in a breath to calm herself, she reached one paw up and removed her glasses, then made a deliberate show of cleaning them.

            “Well, for as _honest_ as you’re being with me, I think I’ll need to seek out a second opinion.” She set her glasses back on and stared hard at the older, overweight tom.

            “Sure. That’s your prerogative.” Larry shrugged. “I’m just saying, as it is, you’ll be lucky to get another 150 miles out of it. You go anywhere else in town, they’ll either laugh you out of the shop or promise you the moon and then rip you off. I’d think seriously about my offer.”

            Callie chuffed at that. “My father was an auto mechanic for his entire life. He’d roll over in his grave if I accepted your offer.”

            Larry cracked a smile. “Well. Guess you’re out of luck, then. Will you be wanting to drive it out of here then?”

            “Of course.”

            “Take my advice, drive it right to the salvage yard outside of town.” Larry chuckled. “Hell. You might even be able to convince those two bums out there to take a crack at it.”

            “Pardon? What are you talking about?” Deputy Mayor Briggs demanded.

            The overweight tom snorted. “The salvage yard south of the city? Fifteen miles out? The two fellas who run it fancy themselves auto mechanics. Of course, they don’t get much business. I mean hell, who would trust their car to a couple of junkyard kats?”

            Callie snatched the keys to her green sedan out of Larry’s paw and climbed into her car. It sputtered and groaned as it tried to turn over, and after the fifth attempt and some coaxing on the gas, it finally did. As the thing coughed to life, she stuck her head out of the open window and affixed her most baleful gaze on the cocky tom.

            “I imagine they’ve got to be better than this place.” And she drove out of the shop.

 

***

 

_That Saturday_

_Megakat City Salvage Yard_

 

 

            The sun had only been in the sky for an hour when the peace and quiet of the salvage yard was ruined by the sounds of a dying vehicle pulling into the lot.

            Jake Clawson lifted his head up away from the armrest of the couch he’d slept on the night before, slowly coming back to life. The faint scent of coffee coming in from the kitchen percolated through the last vestiges of sleep, and he rose up with a yawn. A long and powerful stretch worked the kink out of his neck, and the slender tom took a moment to recall his surroundings.

            The television was on. Check. Coffee was brewing in the pot. Check. One large and burly Chance Furlong plopped on the rug in front of the television with a bowl of Choco-Puffs? Check. One screaming Scaredy-Kat on the television while Chance guffawed through a mouthful of barely chewed cereal?

            Yup. It was Saturday morning, all right.

            Still, the sound of that dying car was new.

            “Sounds like you had a late night.”

            “I was working on the cement machine gun again. Still needs some more tweaks before we can mount it on the Turbokat. Didn’t feel like walking all the way up to my bedroom at two-thirty in the morning.”

            Chance snorted as Scaredy-Kat did another spit-take on the TV. “Buddy, you gotta take better care of yourself.”

            “After work.” Jake sighed, getting up to his feet. “I think we’ve got a customer outside. That doesn’t sound like Burke and Murray’s truck.”

            “I don’t start working until _after_ my morning cartoons.” Chance pointed out with the deadly serious tone that only his favorite television pastime could inspire. The yellow and brown-striped tom jerked his thumb towards the door. “Either handle them yourself or tell them to come back in 30 minutes.”

 

            “Oh, yeah. Because telling people who actually bother to _drive out here_ that we’re not taking their business is great for our grocery bill.” Jake countered. He gave himself a test sniff, shrugged, and zipped up his garage worksuit. The last step was putting his cap on again, backwards like usual. “Finish your cereal. I’ll take care of this.”

            “Yeah, you do that, sure-shot. Be out when I’m done here.”

 

            Jake made his way through the kitchen only long enough to pour himself a thermos of coffee, and after a moment’s reflection, he got a smaller one for whoever was out there in a Styrofoam cup with a lid. If they didn’t want any, he’d drink it himself. Still, best to offer. Word of mouth about the quality of their service would eventually, hopefully, get some more business for them. That ridiculous repair bill for Enforcers HQ wasn’t going to write itself off, after all.

 

            Stepping out of the door of their shop, Jake waited in the crisp morning air and took a slow sip of his desperately needed morning caffeine. The vehicle responsible for the disturbance slowly rolled into view…an older model sedan, green in color. Impressive, actually. Mid-60’s in design. If Chance was out here, he’d be geeking out about it. This particular model was famous for being given the ‘muscle car’ treatment back in the day.

            The car rolled to a coughing idle and turned off, and the driver stepped out. Jake blinked at the sight of a _very_ attractive blond-furred queen in blue jeans and a faded Megakat University sweatshirt stepping out of it. Mid-20’s by the look of her, just about their age.

            Scratch that. Chance wouldn’t be geeking out over the car, he’d be jealous as hell over the fact that Jake was here looking at this girl instead of him.

            Jake pushed off of the front stoop and walked over to the vehicle and its occupant. She removed her glasses to clean them for a moment, then turned and looked at him.

            “Morning.” Jake said by way of casual greeting. “Coffee?” He asked, holding up the Styrofoam container.

            “That depends.” The queen countered suspiciously, eyeing the drink and its owner. Jake felt a minor ripple of irritation run through him at her scrutinizing look. Sure, he wasn’t much to look at with his cherry-brown fur and blue work duds, but still.

            “On what?” He countered calmly, taking another sip of coffee from his own thermos.

            “On what you put in it.” She said.

            Jake snorted. “Nothing. I drink my coffee straight. Don’t need creamer or sugar getting in the way of my morning caffeine burst.”

 

            She eyed him with those _perfect, glimmering emerald eyes_ of hers, then finally broke out a waspish half-smile and took the white Styrofoam cup from him. “Good. And yes, I’d love some. There were a few times on the drive out here, I wasn’t sure if my car would make it.”

            “Sounded like you were having some trouble.” Jake agreed casually. He eyed the car over and nodded. “She’s a real beauty, though. A ’64 Longclaw? They built these things to last.”

            The female blinked in surprise a couple of times as she looked at him again, and when Jake glanced over, he could see hints of…approval? Re-evaluation? There was something different in her eyes as her first impression of him was erased.

            “That they did.” She agreed softly.

 

            Jake cleared his throat. “Well. How about I take a look under the hood?”

            “If you would.”

            “All right.” With practiced motions, Jake popped the hood up and brought the hook into place so he could stare at the interior with a discerning eye. “Hm. You _did_ want to get this repaired, right?”

            “Of course.” The blond-furred queen blinked twice. “Although you’re the first kat to ask me that when I brought it in.”

            “You’re kidding.” Jake looked up from the engine with his eyebrows raised high. “What, did everyone else tell you to scrap this?”

            “…More or less.”

            “Unbelievable.” Jake muttered, looking back inside. He could already pick out five things that needed replacing, and he’d need to crack the engine block open to take a look at the cylinders. His mind was already awash with all the fixes that needed to go into it. A full day’s work, if he could find the parts. Maybe the entire weekend. Still, he relished the challenge. “A car like this, you don’t give up on. They were idiots. Of course, not everyone appreciates classic cars.”

 

            “Well. Seems I was right to come out here. At least you agree with me on that.” She had to be smiling, the warmth in her voice was too great for her not to be. Jake set the hood back down and glanced behind him to see the queen beaming from ear to ear. “So. Can you save it?”

            “If I can find the parts, sure. It’ll take us a while to restore it, but we could definitely get this thing purring like a kitten again.”

            “How much?” She asked, and the warmth was replaced with nervousness.

            Jake scratched his head and ran the figures. “Assuming I can find the parts…2500. With labor.”

            “…You’re kidding.” She blinked back at him. Jake winced.

            “Er…sorry, is that too much? I was figuring on two days of work with that number.”

            “No, no. Sorry.” She apologized. “It’s not too much. Only other shop willing to try at it was…Well, more. No, I could make 2500 dollars work if you can get it back on its feet.”

            “Ah. Well. Good, then.” Jake said. He held out his paw towards her, stopped, then wiped it on his sleeve. “Sorry.” Holding it out again, he mustered a tentative smile. “Jake Clawson.”

            Without hesitation, her softer paw slipped into his, and the two shook. “Calico Briggs.” She replied.

            _Too soft_.

 

            Jake pulled his paw back and nodded. “All right. First, we’re pulling it into the shop, then I need to drive out to the yard and see about finding the parts I’ll need.”

            “…You’re kidding. You don’t have to order them in?”

            “Why would I do that?” Jake replied, hopping into the driver’s seat. Callie followed a moment later, sitting in the passenger’s side beside him. He started the engine up and coaxed it to life after four turns of the starter. “The nice thing about having a shop out here in the junkyard is you’re never far from spare parts. You’d be amazed what some kats throw away.” _Like aircraft parts, jet fuel tanks with hundreds of gallons still in them, machining tools…_

            “Huh. I never thought of that.” Callie admitted. He rolled the ’64 Longclaw into the shop and turned it off, then removed the ignition key from the keyring. The key went on the dash, and the ring he handed back to Callie. “Mind if I tagged along?”

            Jake gave her a sidewards look. “Really?”

            Callie gave him a frown. “What’s the matter? Don’t think I can get my hands dirty?”

            Jake blinked. “No, that’s not it.” He said, pleasantly surprised at the fire in her voice. This one wasn’t just all good looks. She had a bit of lioness in her too. “It just might take a while, is all. I figured you’d want to call for a taxi to get back to Megakat City, was all.”

            “It’s a Saturday.” Callie rolled her eyes. “My boss is off playing golf, I’ve got nothing else planned. Besides.” She gave him a playful smirk. “Maybe I’m interested to go treasure hunting.”

            Jake chuckled. “Right.” He motioned to the nearby yard truck. “Wait here. I’ll go grab the keys and be back.”

 

            Inside the shop’s first floor, Jake quickly found the yard truck’s keys in the kitchen keybox. Chance was still watching his cartoons in the living room, although he shifted when he heard Jake come in.

            “So, how bad?”

            “Should take me all weekend. Less, if you help. We’re headed out to the yard to go looking for parts. When you get done, it’s in the shop. Have a look at it, radio me if you can think of anything else you see that needs repaired I might have missed.”

            “Right, right.” Chance waved him off, not even bothering to look back. He really did block out the world on Saturday mornings. “Hey, want to know a shortcut?”

            “No, Chance.” Jake told him coldly. He hated Chance’s shortcuts, usually ended up taking longer than just going the normal way. “Be back in an hour or so.”

            “Yeah, all right.” Chance waved one last time and zoned out again. Jake grinned from ear to ear, but managed not to chuckle.

            The best pilot that the Enforcers Academy ever put out, still a kitten at heart. And boy, was he missing out.

 

***

 

            It was only the work of a few minutes to maneuver around the myriad piles of junked vehicles and military equipment to reach a section of the yard dedicated to older cars. Callie had surprised the mechanic by asking to come along on the ‘treasure hunt’, but the idea that they could find the parts that they needed to repair her car out in the middle of nowhere flat out intrigued her. Her father had been a very thorough mechanic, only ordering replacement parts when he couldn’t repair the existing ones in warranty. When Jake had basically said the same thing, she hadn’t been able to help but remember when she would sit inside the cars her father repaired and pretend to drive while they listened to the radio together. Never country, but either big band swing or early rock and roll. Sometimes jazz music, if it had been a Wednesday afternoon. It probably came off as a somewhat ridiculous request, and was certainly rather forward for someone who was just another customer, but she’d said it before she could think twice about it. When he’d questioned her and she’d flared up competitively, it had cemented her hasty decision born out of warm reminiscence. To his credit, Jake Clawson hadn’t backpedaled, stammered, or tried to apologize. He’d either been serious about letting her get back to Megakat City as soon as possible to enjoy the rest of her Saturday, or he was very smooth with his recoveries. She didn’t know which, and at the moment, she didn’t particularly care.

            Callie must have looked like a fish out of water, as she caught Jake giving her an appraising glance every now and then from the side of his eye, and she was sure he caught her with a blank stare. She also noticed him eyeing her left hand for a good second on one particular glance. _Checking for a wedding ring or something?_ She wondered.

           

            “I’m pretty sure we’ll find some other Longclaws in these piles.” Jake said, rolling the truck to a stop and killing the engine. “See, the thing about the ’64 was that it was a remodel of the ’63 Kattail, and the ’65 and ’66 Longclaw only had cosmetic differences and…Sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

            “No, not really.” Callie giggled, getting out of the truck and taking her coffee with her. “I haven’t seen anyone get this excited about cars since my father used to take me out to auto shows.”

            “Ah. He was into cars too?” Jake surmised, leading them towards a smaller pile of vehicles which was only two layers thick in the middle.

            “Well, he was a mechanic.” Callie admitted. “Taught me enough so that I wouldn’t be helpless, and I could see it when some grease monkey tried to pull the wool over my eyes.”

            “Smart kat.” Jake didn’t bother trying to hide his smile. “Ah, here we are.” They’d made their way around the fender of a crushed in sports car, and found a car which was nearly identical to Callie’s, although heavily rusted and worn down by the elements. “All right, just need to pop the hood and see what we can dig out here.”

 

            Callie stood back and let Jake work, taking a moment to eye him over a little more closely. It was clear by how he filled out his uniform that he took care of himself; he wasn’t bulging in the midsection, and his muscles were definitely toned. A far cry from most auto mechanics, in her experience. _He’s kind of cute._

            “So, you said ‘we’ before once. Are there others who work out here?”

            “Well, just one other kat. His name’s Chance Furlong, we’re partners. Run the shop together, manage the salvage yard.” Jake answered, yanking a torque wrench from his coveralls and setting to work on jerking pieces out of the ruins of the car. “I’m sure we’ll bump into him when we get back to the shop. He’s the sort of fellow who keeps to his own schedule on the weekends. In the mornings, anyhow.”

            “I see. And how long have you two been mechanics?”

            There was a pause in the shuffling of parts and the clinking sounds of metal. “A few years.” Jake finally said. “And what do you do for a living, Miss Briggs?”

            “Ah. I work…for the local government.” Callie eked out, stumbling over the last part.

 

            The mechanic pulled himself out of the broken car’s engine with a handful of parts and more stuffed in his front pockets. “A lot of kats do.” He said, giving her an easygoing, and encouraging, smile. “Care to be more specific?”

            Callie swore her face was burning now. “I work in the mayor’s office.” She said, looking off to a distant pile of rusted metal parts with a very intense expression.

            Jake didn’t say anything for a bit, then nodded. “Hm. Thought your name sounded familiar. You’re the Deputy Mayor, right?”

            “For what it’s worth.” Callie sighed. “And no, I can’t pull any favors for some odd cousin of yours. I don’t even have enough clout to make changes which could help this city pull itself out of the ditch it seems to be stuck in.” She leaned against the side of the junkyard truck and drank the rest of her coffee in one quick gulp. It had cooled off enough to allow the stunt, and she tossed it into the cabin after she was done.

            Jake the mechanic looked at her for the space of two seconds before shrugging and getting back to his business. The parts he’d collected went into the back of his truck, and then grabbing a rather large crowbar and hammer, he went off towards a different vehicle.

            “Okay, fair enough. Different topic, then.” Jake said, lifting up the hood of a different vehicle which had flared rear fins rising up from the chassis. “Tell me more about your car.”

            “It was my father’s.” Callie said, grateful for the change in topic. “After he…well, he left it to me.”

            “And your brothers didn’t fight you for it?” The mechanic inquired, slamming the crowbar into a tight space of the engine compartment and then hammering away at it.

            “No, I was an only child.” Callie shouted over the noise. “How about you?”

            “My family all lives in Katlanta.” Jake answered in a loud voice between hammers. “I don’t see them much.”

            Well. That answered one question in Callie’s mind, which was whether or not Jake Clawson was a local. He wasn’t.

            “What brings a fine southern fella like yourself all the way to Megakat City?” Callie inquired, inserting a bit of southern drawl into her speech with an impish grin.

            “Oh, this and that.” Jake said evasively. He didn’t rise to the bait, either for the question or her accent. “So it’s your father’s car we’re fixing up. You hang onto it for sentimental reasons?”

            “That, and I couldn’t afford a new one.”

            Jake paused in his work and looked back at her with concern. “Um…you know, if it’ll help, we could set up a payment plan for this.”

            Callie blinked in surprise. She’d been expecting to have to eat into her savings with a lump sum payment. “Why would you do that? Are you taking pity on me or something?” She bit off the end of that sentence with a bit more venom than usual, but she was tired of either being looked down on or condescended to.

            The mechanic didn’t stammer out an apology, or backpedal. He just stared back at her, rising to the challenge. “If you don’t want the help, Miss Briggs, you don’t have to take it. I just figured you deserved a break from the usual crap life throws at you. And I’m not apologizing for offering some understanding and sympathy.”

            Callie swallowed the lump in her throat. “I…okay.”

            “Okay, what?”

            “…We can look into the payment plan. Thanks.” She rubbed at her sleeve nervously. “And I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.”

            Jake turned back to his hammer and crowbar and kept on beating away.

            “I hope things get better for you soon.” Jake spoke up, when the tension in the air had gotten thick enough that Callie was contemplating speaking up again. She nodded, and walked over to lean in and look at what he was doing.

            “What are you foraging for now?”

            “Cylinder pistons. From what I heard, I’ll be opening your engine up to see how it’s doing. In case I need to replace any cylinder heads or rods, I’d hate to have to drive back out here again.” He grunted and finally finished knocking the top of the engine block off, and he shoved it to the side to get at the guts. “Still want to help?”

            “Sure.”

            “Good. Hold these, will you?” Jake stuck his claws into the deceased car’s engine and removed several comparatively slim pieces of metal, handing them off to her without looking back. “We don’t want to drop these. The sand out here would just gunk up the parts even worse than they are.”

            Callie took the bits and pieces from him, finding that the collection was steadily getting heavier. She winced as he dropped a pair of cylinder heads into her cupped arms, and sighed in relief when he pulled himself back out. He’d apparently run out of pieces to grab out of it.

            Looking pleased, Jake nodded. “Bingo. That ought to do it for now.” He took the pile of parts from her, then walked back to the truck and placed them in the bed, wrapping a somewhat clean towel around them. “Okay. Let’s get on back to the shop. I’ll introduce you to Chance, and then we’ll call a taxi for you. Sound okay?” At the last, he seemed to grow a little nervous. Callie smiled and nodded.

            “That’ll be fine. Is something wrong?”

            “Nah. Well…” Jake shrugged and rubbed the side of his skull through his backwards hat. “Usually Chance is the one who talks up the customers. He’s better at it than I am.”

            “Oh, I don’t know.” Callie teased the mechanic, folding her arms behind her. She sashayed to the passenger’s side door of the truck and smirked at him. “I thought you did all right for small talk.”

            Jake shrugged, but didn’t argue the point. He turned on the radio so she wouldn’t have to face the drive back in silence.

            He didn’t listen to country, she noticed. He listened to jazz.

 

***

 

            “Hey, Chance, we’re back.” Jake called out loudly from outside of the shop doors. He slammed the yard truck door closed and went to the bed in back to grab all the spare parts he’d pulled from the scrapyard. Callie climbed out and took a glance inside, spying a larger, more broadly built tom in a blue-gray jumpsuit with his head stuck inside of her car’s hood.

            “Hey, buddy. Boy, you weren’t kidding about the work, but you didn’t tell me it was a Longclaw you were working on! This is muscle car mania we’re talking about! We could drop in a turbocharger in here, up the RPMs, turn it into a really menacing street machine!” His voice was deep, but warm and highly excited. The tom finally stood up with a huge grin, which promptly got knocked off of his face when he spied Callie.

 

            “Well, hello there.” He recovered, and his excited smile melted into something Callie had seen plenty of times through her life; an interested look just shy of an invitation to spend the night.

            Callie mustered a tight, polite smile in return. “So. You’d be Chance, right?”

            Jake wandered by, his pile of auto parts held together in a cloth tarp and slung over his shoulder. The slimmer tom with the cherry-brown fur motioned between the blond-furred tom and the blond-furred queen. “Yep. Chance Furlong. Chance, this is Calico Briggs. Our client.” Callie noticed he’d become even more withdrawn since they had arrived, and aside from a sidewards glance as he passed her, he was quiet.

            Chance nodded and came over to Callie. “Well, glad to meet you, Miss Briggs. How’d you hear about us?”

            “Oh, you two came recommended.” Callie answered. _Well, jokingly recommended, but maybe this could work out._ Chance blinked in surprise at her answer.

            “Oh? Well. Hear that, Jake? The word’s finally getting out.”

            “Terrific.” Jake said, setting the parts down on a workbench. “Hey, Chance, can you call a taxi for Miss Briggs? I’ve already told her we’ll be keeping the car over the weekend.”

            “Oh, sure.”

            “And then once you’re finished, I could use a hand pulling out the engine block.” The slender tom added, still with his back turned to them.

            “ _Sure_ , Jake.” Chance said through clenched teeth. He gestured to the door which led to their office. “If you’d come with me, Callie, we’ll have a ride to pick you up in about 15 minutes.”

            “That would be good.” Callie kept her smile up, but she did relax a little more. The two mechanics seemed harmless enough. Chance was a flirt, no doubt about it, but he seemed the polite kind at least. He was efficient, too, placed a call in to the Yellow Cab to come pick her up and take her back in to the city. It seemed to sting his pride when the burly tom offered her coffee, and she’d politely refused, having already had a cup from Jake.

            As she waited for the cab to arrive, she waited in the office and surreptitiously watched the two kats give her car the start of a thorough examination. Chance was brawnier and had a good eye for details, but Jake definitely had the keener mind, and was methodical in his exam. The two had a natural camaraderie, like they’d been friends all their lives and working together just as long. It was heartening to see. Leaning against the doorframe, Callie found herself smiling more honestly as the two bickered and Chance gave Jake a good ribbing over ‘not telling me there was a good looking shekat here’ earlier in the morning, followed by a vicious headrubbing and sputtered protests, followed by a hearty guffaw and a blush from Jake. It reminded her of the sort of relationships that her own father had had with his boys in the shop when she was little.

            It reminded her of home.

 

            The sounds of a car pulling up outside in a squeal of brakes pulled her back to the present, and she ducked inside of the office before the two kats could catch her spying on them.

            The sound of Chance’s voice soon echoed through the building. “Miss Briggs? Your taxi’s here.”

            “Oh, thanks Chance.” Callie called back, stepping through the doorway with a pleased expression. “And thank you, both of you. This means a lot to me.”

            “No problem.” Chance answered eagerly. “Now, would you like us to call when it’s done, or should we just expect you to drop by Monday?”

            “Early evening.” Callie said. “After I get done with work. You sure you’ll have it done by then?”

            “We’ll get it running again.” Jake assured her, looking up from the car. “It may take us a few visits to get it back to original condition, though.”

            “What Jake means is, we’d be happy to take care of its routine maintenance from now on.” Chance cut in, slipping a look back to his partner, who shrugged and got back to work.

            Callie hmmed aloud and shrugged. “We’ll see how well you two do with getting it back on its feet this time around. I’ll consider it.”

            “Right. Well, we’ll give it our full attention.” Chance nodded.

            “All right. Well, I’d better get going. Take good care of my car now, Chance.”

            The burly yellow tom swelled up a bit. “Count on it, Callie.”

            Callie smiled, nodded, and headed out the main doors for the taxi. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, however, and she paused just outside the doors and leaned her head back in with a smirk.

            “Bye, Jake.” She sing-songed, adding a small little wave. The slender cherry-brown tom jerked up and looked over at her with his fur several shades darker, and Chance looked between her and his partner in outright shock.

            _Priceless._ Grinning, Callie flounced out of the workshop and made her way to the taxi.

            She had a good feeling about these two mechanics. Maybe at last, she’d found someone she could trust with her father’s car.

 

***

 

_Megakat City Hall_

_Thursday Morning_

 

 

            **“Of course I’ll get away with it, Deputy Mayor. I’ve already gotten away with it.”** The rumbling voice of Dark Kat rattled the walls as much as Callie’s nerves while the enormous megalomaniac towered over her. She and the Mayor, along with a few other unfortunate members of the staff, were bound and surrounded by a small horde of the demonic purple things called ‘Creeplings.’ While Dark Kat gloated, several more of the creatures were busy preparing a large explosive device that been unloaded from the Fear Ship. Only ten minutes ago, Dark Kat and his entourage had smashed through the side of the skyscraper directly into the mayor’s office, catching everyone by surprise and subduing the few Enforcer guards stationed about. The rest below had suffered a quick demise after tripping similar explosives wired to the elevator doors and the emergency stairs. **“I have anticipated every response that your Enforcers could throw at us. The wheels of government will grind to a halt when my Mega-Bomb goes off and turns City Hall and all in it into rubble and paste. In the absence of leadership, the cowering kats of this city will be ripe pickings.”**

            “Now, now, don’t be haaasty!” Mayor Manx whined, trying to bargain out of desperation for their lives. “Surely we can work out some kind of deal! One in which I don’t end up dead!”

            Dark Kat’s chuckle curdled Callie’s blood even more, and the cloaked and hooded specter of death turned away from her and the rest of the hostages. **“My dear mayor, you make a poor mouthpiece. You’re worth more to me dead than alive.”**

            Manx whimpered and tucked his tail in, and Callie shook her head. _We’re all dead, Mayor. At least I tried to face it with a little dignity._ The chattering of a nearby Creepling caused her to jerk upright. _I just wish I didn’t have to stare at these things in the final minutes of my life._

 

            **_“This is Commander Feral!”_** The echoing voice of the Enforcers’ leader over a loudspeaker drifted up from outside of the building. **_“We have the building surrounded, Dark Kat! Give yourself up!”_**

 

            Dark Kat gestured to some Creeplings still inside of the Fear Ship, which promptly got to work pressing buttons. The sounds of launching missiles followed by explosions seconds later made Callie shiver.

            **“Now, if your precious Enforcers keep to their procedures, they will next try a rooftop insertion through the clock tower.”** Dark Kat said, walking over to his Mega-Bomb and brushing his Creeplings aside. He got to work on it, pausing only briefly when the building shook and shuddered again. **“Too predictable. And now, they’re dead also.”** He laughed at that and continued to program the bomb. **“Through the elevators, the stairs, and the roof. The Enforcers are out of options.”**

 

            And just when Callie was about to throw in the towel, the building shook again…although this time, the Fear Ship was responsible for the rattling, having taken several hits and now smoking along its exposed hull. Dark Kat whirled about, as did everyone else, and stared out through what was left of the large outer windows.

            **“What in blazes?!”**

            A jet was hovering in midair, and Callie felt hope return to her numbed senses. She knew that jet. “It’s the SWAT Kats!” She cried out.

            And then a heavy turret mounted underneath its belly began to spin and fire. Not bullets, but enormous blobs of heavy material which slammed through the building and smashed Creepling after Creepling into the walls. Even Dark Kat took a hit or two, grunting in pain as he was knocked flat on his feet and covered in a thick cement-like paste.

            No, not cement-like. Actual cement, Callie realized.

 

            With the Fear Ship’s weapons neutralized, the Turbokat lined up alongside the window and both SWAT Kats jumped out, armed and dangerous.

            “Knock, knock, Dark Kat!” The larger one of the pair growled, hitting the floor running and barreling into the terrorist with a wild haymaker. The other one used the strange weaponized gauntlet he was wearing to wrap up the last few conscious Creeplings in thick netting.

            “I’ve got the hostages, T-Bone!” The smaller one called out. He raced to where Mayor Manx, Callie, and the others were, and using a small rotary saw which sprouted from the top of his gauntlet, cut through their ropes. “Get going, we’ll handle Dark Kat!”

            Callie found herself swallowing from the shock of it all, and for a brief moment, her eyes locked with the face of the smaller SWAT Kat. Wearing a blue and red flight suit, along with helmet and a mask which covered the upper half of his face, he looked positively dangerous. And heroic.

            **“Curse you, you damned vigilantes!”** Dark Kat snapped, coming back up to his feet and knocking the larger SWAT Kat aside with a backhand. **“But you’re too late! The bomb is set, and there’s no stopping the countdown!”** The terrorist lumbered back to his Fear Ship, and some of the Creeplings who’d been able to break free followed him, chattering angrily.

            “Razor, he’s getting away! Come on!” The larger one, T-Bone if Callie had heard right, yelled out.

            “No can do, T-Bone.” Razor, the smaller of them, cut in angrily, pointing towards the large Mega-Bomb which occupied the middle of the mayor’s office. “We have to get the Mayor and the hostages to safety!”

 

            Callie pulled herself up to her feet and gave her head a wild shake. “Forget about us, SWAT Kats, you have to take care of the bomb! Dark Kat said it was powerful enough to knock down City Hall completely!”

            Razor and T-Bone froze for a moment, which was long enough for the Fear Ship’s rear entrance to close up and for the ship to blast out of the office, retreating away from the Megakat City skyline while trailing smoke.

            “Darn it!” T-Bone scowled, flashing his fangs. “All right, fine. Razor, can you defuse the bomb?”

            Razor raced over to the Mega-Bomb and ripped off an access panel, tracing the wiring inside. After twenty seconds, he scowled. “No good. He’s got it rigged with two failsafe timers. This bomb is going off in one minute, no matter what we do!”

 

            “Nooo, not my City Hall!” Mayor Manx wailed. He cowered on the floor, a mess just like he always was when things got tough.

            While the other office workers either tried to call out for help or fell to their knees in prayer, Callie worked up enough nerve to approach the smaller SWAT Kat, still standing by the bomb with a distraught look on his face.

            “Can’t you do anything?” She pleaded. “Razor?” At his name, Razor jerked back to reality and looked at her in surprise. “If this building collapses, it’ll kill kats down below on the streets too. There has to be something you can do.”

 

            “Whatever we’re gonna do, sure shot, we’d better make it quick.” T-Bone hollered out.

            Razor’s eyes, white behind his mask, seemed to dart in several directions wildly as he thought. Finally, he gave one short nod. “If we can’t disarm the bomb, we’ll have to take it someplace where it can’t hurt anyone when it goes off. T-Bone! The grapple lines!”

            “Right!” T-Bone jumped out of the window and raced back to the cockpit of the Turbokat, climbing back inside and bringing the hovering jet back to full life. Three seconds later, a vast array of thick cables launched from its underside and landed close to the Mega-Bomb.

            “Miss Briggs, give me a hand here!” Razor ordered, already busily wrapping the cables around the bomb and snapping the ends together. Callie did as she was told, and working in tandem, Deputy Mayor and vigilante quickly had the bomb trussed up in four separate lines.

            Razor tapped the side of his helmet. “Okay, T-Bone, give it a yank!”

            The Turbokat retreated back away from the side of the building, and with a grinding sound, the tied up bomb scraped across the floor before crashing out of the last surviving bit of window. Razor dashed after it, grabbing hold of the main cable line, and the Turbokat turned about and shot off for Megakat Bay.

 

            Callie and some of the others ran to the ruins of the outer wall of the building, watching in awe when the Turbokat released the Mega-Bomb. It barely escaped the explosion that followed as it went off above the water. Cheers rose up, especially from Callie, and even as exhausted as she was, the relief she felt was never more palpable.

 

            “They did it! Those SWAT Kats saved our lives!” One receptionist sobbed in relief. Callie nodded and smiled before turning her face back towards the skyline, and the rapidly retreating Turbokat.

            “Yeah. They did. And we never got to thank them.”

 

            “Thank them? Callie, look at my carpet, it’s _ruined_!” The Mayor groaned. Callie winced and looked back to the room, at last recognizing that the green carpet and the underfloor was torn up. “How am I evah supposed to play gallf in here again?!”

 

            “Mayor Manx, we just survived nearly being blown up with half of downtown!” Callie snapped at her superior. “Get some perspective! The SWAT Kats just did in two minutes what the Enforcers couldn’t do in half an hour! We’re _alive_ , and you’re panicking about the carpet?!”

 

            Her angry outburst chastened the Mayor enough to allow her to bring order back to the world. Not long after, Commander Feral and a squad rappelled into the officer from their helicopters to ‘take control of the situation’, which she found laughable considering the SWAT Kats had done everything.

            After another hour, the Enforcers had defused the remaining charges and declared City Hall safe. Considering the morning’s events, Callie decided it would be best to call it a day early.

            And the mayor never said a word, because he was long gone for the golf links by then.

 

***

 

_That Evening_

_Calico Briggs’ Apartment_

 

 

            Returning home after enjoying a meal at a hole in the wall Siamese restaurant that had been a favorite refuge of hers since College, Calico Briggs had parked her green sedan in the building’s underground garage and taken the elevator up to her floor in the skyscraper. The meal had been terrific, and it had been just as much of a relief to have her car back in fighting shape. She’d collected it on Monday, and been happily surprised to discover that the entire repair had been 500 dollars below the estimate. It drove better than it had since she’d learned to drive in high school, but Jake had insisted, when he could get a word in with Chance bantering, that he’d keep an eye on it the next time she brought it in for an oil change. If she brought it in for an oil change. She hadn’t committed to keeping them on as her regular car mechanics, but after a few days of driving the Longclaw around, she was basically set on it.

            With a sigh and a yawn, she unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside. She closed the door, flipped the deadbolt, and then switched the lights on.

            The sudden illumination caused her to gasp and drop her purse on the floor, because she wasn’t alone in her place. Both of the SWAT Kats were sitting on her living room couch in their full getups, watching her.

            “SWAT Kats? What the…” She stammered.

            “Good evening, Miss Briggs.” T-Bone said lowly, getting up onto his feet. “We were hoping you’d get home soon.”

            “What are you two doing in here?” Callie demanded. “How did you find my apartment, anyhow?”

            “We have our ways.” Razor said cryptically, standing beside T-Bone. “We wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier today.”

            Callie rubbed at her forehead, not sure whether to feel tired or frightened, but settling on tired. Having been threatened with death once in a day made a repeat of the experience lose its fangs. “Are you here to hurt me?”

            “What? No!” T-Bone said, seemingly hurt by the idea.

            “Good. Because I’m not feeling particularly chipper after what happened with Dark Kat, and all I want to do is just curl up and sleep. It’d be great if you two would leave so I can.”

            “And what about next time, Miss Briggs?” Razor asked sharply. That made her freeze. “We saw how you reacted today. The others panicked. You actually tried to do something. I don’t think I could have gotten that bomb roped up as quickly without your help. And the fact of the matter is, stuff like what happened today seems to be happening more often.”

            “Look.” Callie said. “I’m grateful that you two saved our lives, but what are you getting at?”

            “We want you to help us.” T-Bone explained.

            “Ah. Well, I’ll have to pass. Vigilantism is your thing.”

            T-Bone chuckled at that. “No, we can handle ourselves. But one thing we don’t have is somebody on the inside. Someone we can trust. Someone to let us know when something’s going on in Megakat City, so we can respond to it quickly. We want you to be that kat. An informant.”

 

            Razor walked up to her and held out a small, triangular device with a large button at the center and side toggles. “This is a specialized communicator I came up with. It has a 50 mile range, and is encrypted on a frequency that the Enforcers don’t use. It’ll allow you to contact us if there’s trouble.”

            Callie looked at the device dubiously, then looked to Razor under the light of her apartment. She narrowed her gaze, but the tomcat didn’t flinch.

            “Why me?” She asked. Seeing Razor begin to open his mouth, she interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “And don’t give me the same excuse that I’m strong, because I’m not.”

            Razor blinked underneath his mask. “You’re sharper than most give you credit for, Deputy Mayor.” Still holding out the communicator, Razor cocked his head to the side. “We know that the mayor doesn’t actually do anything, but somehow, decisions are still getting made. The Enforcers are too bound up in restrictions and the leadership of Commander Feral to be really effective. Someone is still making a difference, though. Slowly, but steadily. And we know it’s you. Your voice carries more authority than you know.”

            “In short, we trust you, Miss Briggs.” T-Bone concluded, folding his burly, striped arms. “And we’re hoping that you…trust us.”

            Callie looked from T-Bone standing in the background to Razor, who stood before her still offering the communicator.

            “Before I agree to this, I…I need to know something.”

            “We expected you’d have questions. If you only have one, that saves us time.” Razor nodded.

            Callie looked the slimmer SWAT Kat over. “Why do you do this?” She asked him. “What makes you dress up, put your tails on the line, and risk either being killed or being arrested?”

            “This is our city.” T-Bone chimed in with a gruff growl. “And somebody has to protect it from the crazed lowlifes who threaten it. There are some kats, some _things_ which are too much for the Enforcers to handle. At least the way it currently operates.”

            Callie couldn’t help but nod inside her head at the truth of that, but she refrained from doing it physically. “So you do it out of obligation?”

            “No.” Razor shook his head. “We do it because it’s who we are. That’s the only reason that matters. Why did you take the job of Deputy Mayor? Because you felt obligated?”

            “No!” Callie stammered. “I…I took it because I wanted to help!” Her face fell a bit, as she recalled how truly useless she was in changing anything.

            Razor’s free paw went to her shoulder. “You are helping.” He told her gently, when she looked back into his eyes.

            She trusted those eyes, and when Razor set the communicator in her fingers, they curled around the device on their own.

            “All right.” Callie said softly. “If there’s trouble…I’ll call you.” She blinked once as Razor pulled his paw back, and smiled at them. “And what if I just want to talk to you?”

            “Don’t.” T-Bone told her, shaking his head. “Emergencies only.” Conceding to the logic in that, Callie nodded. “Come on, Razor. We’ve got to get back to patrol.”

            The two vigilantes turned back around and headed for her window, and Callie felt a lost thought strike her as they pointed their gauntlets up the side of the building’s exterior.

            “Wait!” She cried out. Razor and T-Bone paused and looked back at her.

            “Yes, Miss Briggs?” T-Bone asked.

            In spite of everything, she felt a rush of heat rise to her cheeks, and she looked off to the side slightly. “I…I wanted to thank you. For saving my life today. I wanted to earlier, but you flew off before I could.”

            The two gave her small smiles, and Razor spoke up.

            “You’re welcome. Good night, Miss Briggs.”

            Their arms pointed up again, and with the hiss of compressed gas, they launched grapple lines, vanishing from sight. Thirty seconds later, the roar of the Turbokat’s engines shattered the silence of night.

            Looking at the communicator one last time, Callie smiled and tucked it away in her purse.

            Maybe she wasn’t so useless in that office after all.

 

***

 

_Megakat City Salvage Yard_

_2 Weeks Later_

_Late Afternoon_

 

 

            “It’s been quiet since Dark Kat tried to blow up City Hall.” Chance grumbled. He was rotating the tires on a car while Jake worked on changing out the oil.

            “Hey, you say that like it’s a bad thing.” Jake complained. “I’m personally glad for the break. Our grappler cables needed replacing after that last stunt, and I’ve come up with a new design so they can deploy around a target without any manual assistance.”

            “Heh! You’re always fiddling with those gadgets of yours.”

            “Chance, if I didn’t fiddle, the Turbokat wouldn’t have the ability to hover or VTOL.” Jake reminded his partner, waving his wrench out from underneath the car. “At least the cement machine gun worked like I hoped it would.”

            “How you kept the mixture from gumming up inside of the gun and hardening right after impact…”

            “Advanced chemistry, Chance…”

            “Hey, I’m trying to pay you a compliment, stop showing off already.”

            “Oh, this from the king of hotdogging himself?” Jake guffawed.

            “That’s it. Mondo Pepper contest tonight after work!”

            “You’re on!”

 

            The sound of a car horn honking outside ended their arguments, and Jake rolled himself from underneath of their current project to look at Chance.

            “Another customer?” Jake wondered aloud.

            “Maybe?” Chance guessed. “At least it’s not a call for a tow-in.”

 

            The two made their way outside and faltered in midstep. Standing outside of her ’64 Longclaw was one Deputy Mayor Calico Briggs, looking particularly professional in her pink ‘power’ business suit and high heels. She gave the two a grin and waved as they started walking up to her again.

            “Hey, guys.” She greeted them.

            “Hey, Miss Briggs.” Chance replied, slipping back into his usual flirting demeanor. “What can we do for you?”

            “Well, I gave it some thought and decided that after the work you did earlier getting my car running, I owed you some repeat business.” Callie explained. “I just got done for the day, and I was wondering if you’d be able to squeeze me in for an oil change.”

            Jake and Chance looked at one another, and Chance nodded. “Sure. Jake’s just about done on our current car. We can get you in and out of here in half an hour.”

            “That sounds great. Thanks, you two.” Callie handed the keys over to Jake, who gave his head a shake and drove the Longclaw into the shop’s second bay. “So, how’s business been?” She asked Chance, as they walked after her car.

            “Oh, picking up.” Chance said. “We got your latest payment, by the way. Thanks for getting it to us so promptly.”

            “After the miracle you pulled off getting my father’s car running again, it’s worth every penny. I’m just happy you let me set up a payment plan.”

            “I thought the Deputy Mayor’s job would pay better.” Chance blinked as they went inside. He returned to rotating the tires on their first car, giving Callie some space while Jake slid underneath her car and got to work on opening up the Longclaw’s oil pan.

            Callie folded her arms and shook her head. “Not after rent and student loans. But, it has its perks. You meet some really interesting people on the job. I met the SWAT Kats a couple of weeks ago.”

            Both Chance and Jake paused momentarily in their work, but neither one looked towards the other, afraid of giving anything away. It could be that Callie was just making small talk.

            “Oh, really?” Jake said, continuing to work. “Are they really the heroes that some kats make them out to be?”

            “They saved the lives of everyone in City Hall. You bet they’re heroes.” Callie said proudly. “But then, so are you two.”

            “We are?” Chance looked over his shoulder at her in confusion. “What did we do?”

            Callie shrugged. “You two helped restore my faith in the kats of this city when you saved my car. As long as there are kats like you two, and the SWAT Kats, around, I’m going to stick it out. Being the Deputy Mayor may not pay well, it may not be glamorous, and it comes with a lot of headaches, but it’s what I can do.”

            “Glad to hear that there’s someone up there in city hall looking out for the little guy.” Jake said brightly. “And thank you, Callie.”

            “For what?”

            “For trusting us enough to come back.” Jake concluded.

            Callie nodded, looking between the two mechanics hard at work. Standing there in that dingy car garage, surrounded with the smells of engine oil and radiator fluid, the troubles of Mayor Manx and the office slipped away, and let her see a brighter tomorrow fast coming. One changed not by the wealthy, or the elite, but by kats whose hearts and hands were always driving the city she loved forward.

            “Anything worthwhile starts out with trust.” She whispered, and smiled.


	2. Fear of Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No jet? No problem. In the aftermath of "Katastrophe", the SWAT Kats prowl the streets regardless. Meanwhile, a newly graduated lieutenant from the Enforcers Academy eager to prove her rising star was won on merit and not nepotism has her first encounter with the enigmatic vigilantes...

**_SWAT KATS: FEAR OF LOSS_ **

By Eric “Erico” Lawson

 

 

_One Week After the Events of “Katastrophe”_

_City Hall_

_Megakat City_

 

 

            Considering how often his life was threatened by lunatics, Deputy Mayor Calico Briggs was beginning to wonder why Mayor Manx would have ever wanted to stay in the office. Or how he always seemed so unruffled the day after an assassination attempt. Maybe all the time he spent out on the golf course was just as much for relaxation as it was for building political connections and sucking in campaign funding. Since she hated golf, she had yet to find a calming technique for her own near-death occasions. And, Callie thought with a certain amount of fresh irritation, she’d had her life on the line more than he had.

            _If it weren’t for the SWAT Kats…_

 

            Callie shook her head and stepped back away from the full-sized, reinforced plate glass windows on the side of the mayor’s office. She didn’t even want to finish that thought. Just a week ago, she and the mayor had been held hostage by an alliance of Megakat City’s worst offenders as a lure to eliminate the SWAT Kats. Callie remembered how the world had seemed to stop when the Turbokat was blown out of the sky. Even when Dark Kat’s team of misanthropic supervillains had turned to kill them off, she’d barely noticed it. Her world didn’t start turning, her heart didn’t stop beating, until they had reappeared. With some timely help from Feral (Who, until the last month or so, Callie had thought would be the one kat who would sooner chew off his own tail than render assistance), they had all gotten out of there alive. Chances were good that all of those villains had survived also, but Callie took the win for what it was.

 

            It had come at a high price, though. The Turbokat had been sacrificed as a ruse. When the SWAT Kats had told the mayor that they’d need a jet until they rebuilt theirs, there’d been a lot of hemming and hawing on his part. If Callie had been the one in charge, she would have signed the check to give them an entire squadron of airplanes. But she wasn’t.

            She just did the paperwork.

 

            “Callie, are we certaiihn that we need to be givin’ those SWAT Kats a brand new jet?” Manx whined from his desk. “You know that Commander Feral’s not exactly too keen on the ideaaah…”

            “Mayor, by my count, they’ve saved your life five times.” Callie whipped back on the mayor and glared at him with her burning emerald eyes. “And that leaves out all the times they’ve saved the city from being overrun by plants and monsters and aliens, or rendered bankrupt.”

            “Well, that’s all true as may be, but…”

            “Not to mention, mayor, there’s the political consideration to be made.” Callie added with a fair amount of satisfied triumph. It was the one barb her boss could never ignore. “The latest Tailwind Poll indicated that public support for the SWAT Kats was at 76 percent. Not following through on the promise might cause friction for you in the next election.”

            “Now, now, Callie, let’s not be steppin’ over ourselves here!” Manx backpedaled, puffing his sizable gut out against his vest. “You know, it’s very important to be listening to the average voter.”

            _The only thing you’re more scared of than dying is losing the election. Pompous windbag._

            “So?” Callie asked, arching an eyebrow over her glasses. Manx’s bravado ran out, and he hemmed and hawed, fiddling with his toupee as he did so, until he finally sighed and crumbled against her unyielding pressure.

            “Fine, fine. Ah’ll authorize the expense. O’ course, the Enforcers’ll have to supply it. Feral’s not going to be happy about it one bit.”

            Callie turned and looked back out the mayor’s window, staring over the landscape of Megakat City. _No matter how many times this city gets torn apart, we keep rebuilding it. Some might have lost hope by now. But this town doesn’t. Even when their homes, the skyscrapers where they work get blown down, the kats of this city don’t give in. They don’t give up. The SWAT Kats give them that courage to walk forward._

And herself, Callie added on afterthought.

 

            “The SWAT Kats deserve so much for what they’ve done.” Callie said, absently stroking the side of her neck with a paw. She thought of them, the tall and solidly built T-Bone, and the thinner Razor. Both of them forever out of reach, kats she felt safe around, trusted with her life. But kats she could never have a life with. And of the two, it was Razor who she was the more drawn to. The quieter one. The one who’d come to her rescue during Viper’s skyscraper takeover, who had more scrappiness than muscle about him, and still came out swinging for the fences. T-Bone was raw force and fury, a bludgeoning instrument of destruction. Razor was, like his name, a slender and precise cutting tool. Always out of reach, the two kept their distance, stayed professional. To protect her, she imagined. Not like it saved her from constantly getting into trouble anyways.

            Her hand dropped back down to her waist, and she shook her head.

            “If we could give them more, mayor, I would. But they need the Turbokat to keep fighting. Without it…they’re not enough.”

            “Oh, pish. From what I hear, they’re still giving the Enforcers all sorts o’ grief, even without that jet of theirs.” Manx scoffed. “But rest assured, Callie, we’ll get them a new one. It won’t have all the fancy bells and whistles, o’ course.”

            “That’s all right.” Callie said, glancing back over her shoulder at the mayor with a soft smile. “They were probably going to rebuild it themselves afterwards anyways.”

 

***

 

_Megakat City Streets_

_Evening_

 

 

            Most kats were either already in bed or getting ready for it, but T-Bone and Razor weren’t most kats. Neither were the tosspots they dealt with on a regular basis, and while the supervillain population might have gone back to the shadows to lick their wounds, the regular scum of Megakat City was back out and crawling in force. Without a Turbokat screaming through the night skies, they felt it was safe to get back to work.

            They were wrong, though. The SWAT Kats may have been down a jet, but they weren’t out of the fight.

            The double-seater Cyclotron, one of the many vehicles that the SWAT Kats had designed to fit in the bomb bay of the now-destroyed Turbokat, didn’t see as much action as Razor’s single seater, but they’d built it regardless, much like their delta packs and ejektor seats, for those rainy days. It was definitely raining now. Metaphorically. Megakat City hadn’t felt a drop in two weeks.

 

            “Enforcer police band’s going nuts tonight.” Razor said, speaking into his helmet microphone. T-Bone may have only been a foot and a half away from him, but the headset speakers built into their brain bins helped them to stay in contact even with the wind and the low hum of the engines screaming around them. “A lot of small incidents.”

            “Hate to say it, buddy, but leave the little fish for the Enforcers.” T-Bone replied, veering right. They both leaned into the turn, instinctively in synch even on their ground transportation. “We’ve got our own marlin to land. Just keep your ears open for any fire reports. I guarantee you Backdraft is going to start something tonight.”

            _Backdraft. No good, kat-killing, arsonist scuzzball._ Razor ground his molars just thinking about the menace. A pathologic pyromaniac, Wilbur Greymane had graduated from abandoned buildings to more populated structures about four years ago, back when the Enforcers could still credit Jake Clawson and Chance Furlong as members of the force. The two tactical response officers had taken him down once, but not until after a 54 year old grandmother and a 3 year old grandkitten she’d been babysitting that night had died in an apartment fire. He’d only gone by the name Backdraft after he’d staged a daring escape from Megakat Penitentiary and upped his game. Jake and Chance had never forgiven themselves for letting that particular killer evade capture, and the restrictions slammed on their efforts to pursue and capture the crook had chafed at them. In some ways, it could be argued that the start of their dislike for the Enforcers’ bureaucracy had started there. So too, had the SWAT Kats’ informal motto; _get the job done, save kats, get it done right, and screw the collateral damage._

            Taking him down wasn’t just business as usual for the SWAT Kats: It was personal.

 

            “Times like these I miss having the Enforcer computer network at our disposal.” Razor noted whimsically. “We could run a search pattern then, at least. Now, all we can do is react.”

            “Don’t think about what we can’t do. Think about what we can.” T-Bone reminded him. That seemed to settle Razor’s fur down, and he went back to the Cyclotron’s scanners, currently set to thermal sensors. If there was a fire, he’d find it.

 

            The two-seater Cyclotron screamed past a pizza delivery car just pulling onto Siam Avenue, and Razor caught enough of a sidelong glance to see the kat in the driver’s seat jerk away from the window as they shot by. Just another surprised katizen, stuck in the pattern of living.

            “Boy, do I miss the Turbokat right about now.” T-Bone muttered. “You made sure the Cyclotron’s got a full ammo load?”

            “Mini slicer blades, mini cookie-cutter missiles, rear-firing grappler winch, and I switched out the vertical AA missile launcher with a new surprise.”

            T-Bone chuckled, and Razor could picture the grin, even with his partner’s head pointed in the direction they were driving. “What’s this week’s surprise?”

            “Something to make sure we rain on Backdraft’s parade once we find him.” Razor said enigmatically. “Hopefully we can nail him this time before he gets away.”

            “That jerk’s got too much of an ego. He has to stick around and watch things burn.” T-Bone insisted.

            Razor was stopped from arguing the point when his scanner went haywire. “Woah! T-Bone, I’ve got a huge thermal disturbance northeast of here! Range, 200 meters!”

            “I’m on it!” Chance swerved the Cyclotron hard around a corner, forcing both of them to lean hard into the turn, and then they rocketed off with a blast of the cycle’s emergency boosters. It took another two turns after that to bring them to the site of trouble Razor had picked up on.

            To their surprise, the source of the blaze was a fire station.

            “Unbelievable.” T-Bone said, shaking his head. “I suppose Backdraft thinks this is funny.”

            “I must have missed the punchline.” Razor snapped. The weapons specialist nudged T-Bone in the back. “Hit the rear weapons toggle!”

            T-Bone did so, and the housing which ordinarily held a vertical missile launcher lifted up from the rear chassis with a hiss of hydraulic pressure, revealing a launcher with a much larger, single bore. “What the heck is that thing?!”

            “Smaller version of that foam bomb I came up with. Aim it at the heart of the blaze!”

            Chance lined up the targeting reticule on the Cyclotron’s monitor, then fired. With a blast of highly pressurized air, a spherical mortar rocketed from the rear of the motorcycle and smashed through the side of the building. A moment later, it was rocked with a muffled explosion, and white foam splashed out through the broken windows of the station. Razor grunted in satisfaction.

            “Bingo.”

            “Geez, it really is a foam mortar round, isn’t it?” T-Bone mused.

            “The aerial dispersal mechanism for the bomb version didn’t make any sense. I had to improvise. So, yeah. Kaboom.” While T-Bone kept his eye on the fire, Razor scanned the perimeter for witnesses. There were a couple peeking their heads out of their windows, but he was looking for one kat in particular, and spotted him hiding in the shadows away from the streetlights half a block off, sitting at the wheel of an idling car. “I’ve got eyes on Backdraft.”

            “Then let’s bag that lowlife!” T-Bone hissed, revving up the Cyclotron’s engine.

            Razor stopped him with a paw to the larger kat’s back. “Negative. I’ll get after him. You stay here with the Cyclotron and get this fire under control before it kills anyone.”

            “Damnit, sureshot…” T-Bone complained, but he knew that the plan made sense. That was usually how it went, with T-Bone the first to jump in, and Razor the one always telling him to pull back and play it smart. “Fine. Get moving!”

            “Already on it, partner.” Razor slipped on his Glovatrix and leapt off of the Cyclotron. He turned himself around with a half somersault, then fired off a grappling line at the nearest streetlight.

            Backdraft finally noticed he’d been spotted, and hit the gas to tear down the street. Razor was hot on his heels, and with a second well placed grapple swing, he landed on the roof of the car and dug his claws into the metal.

            “Damn you, SWAT Kats!” Backdraft howled. Dressed in a yellow fireman’s coat, the grey-furred pyromaniac looked fit to be tied. He jerked the wheel on his car, trying to throw Razor off. “That fire was going to be perfect! Do you have any _idea_ how long I spent preparing the incendiary charge? Figuring out how to sneak in there? Where to put it?! This was my masterpiece, and you’ve _ruined it!”_

            “Guess we have different opinions about art, Backdraft!” Razor shouted back, gripping onto the roof of the vehicle for dear life. “But I’ll bet you look great in prison orange!”

            “Never!” Backdraft snapped, and they veered onto a main road. Or careened onto it, really, with the fleeing pyromaniac bouncing them up and off of a curb. He even managed to take out a mailbox, scattering a flurry of letters and broken packages into the air.

            Razor ducked the debris field, glad for his helmet as one rather solid cardboard box smacked the side of his head. He dug his free claw deeper into the car’s roof, then deployed a buzzsaw cutter from his Glovatrix. “Enough of this.” He muttered, and set the rapidly spinning blade down against the roof. In a shower of sparks, he started to cut through the car’s shell.

            Reacting to the attack, Backdraft slammed hard on the brakes. Razor was caught off his guard, and was hurled bodily off of the vehicle. He felt his arm wrench hard in its socket as his dug in claws refused to let go until tremendous force was exerted, and heard a terrific pop. Fighting through the blinding pain, he somehow managed to tuck and roll as he hit the pavement, coming to a haphazard kneeling stop with his dislocated arm hanging limply from his side.

            “T-Bone…could use your help.” Razor wheezed, speaking into his helmet microphone.

            _“Roger that, buddy. Fire crews just got started. It took me 2 more foam mortars to stabilize the fire.”_

“Hurry…it up.” Razor panted. Staring through his mask, he saw that Backdraft was grinning wickedly at him from behind the wheel. “Oh, don’t you do it…”

            Backdraft hit the accelerator, and aimed his car straight for the injured SWAT Kat.

            Razor didn’t waste time or energy trying to get out of the way, which he doubted he could have in his condition. Instead, he lifted up his Glovatrix, aimed it right at the front of the car and its engine block, and fired a pair of Mini-Baby Boomer missiles. It wasn’t often Razor went full lethal, but he was out of options. Or patience.

            The explosive rounds burrowed into the front of the car and blasted the hood clean off. Backdraft lost control of the car as his front tires were shredded in the blast, and the car veered sharply to the left, skating past an unblinking Razor and crashing into the side of a home furnishings store, taking out a bedroom display in the front window before it came to a full halt. Backdraft himself lay slumped against a deflating airbag, unmoving, and a queen mattress was bent over sideways on top of the car’s torn roof.

            “Lights out for you, Backdraft.” Razor coughed. The store’s sprinkler system kicked on, dousing the wreckage with a spray of water and putting out the last of the engine fire.

 

            Another ten seconds passed, and then T-Bone pulled up beside Razor on the Cyclotron. “Holy…you okay, Razor?”

            “Been better.” Razor limped over beside the Cyclotron, cradling his dislocated arm. Razor stumbled over a bit of debris he hadn’t been watching out for, and in his dash to recover his balance, jostled his arm badly enough to yelp in pain T-Bone flinched in sympathy, and a dizzy Razor groaned as he hunched forward slightly. “Okay…really been better.” He added weakly. “He took me for a ride.”

            “Is he alive?” T-Bone asked worriedly.

            “He’s breathing.” Razor answered. The distant scream of Enforcer sirens broke up their conversation, and Razor slowly got back onto the Cyclotron, climbing onto the rear seat. “Come on, T-Bone. We’ve gotta get out of here.”

            “We have to get you some help.”

            “No way. Feral would love to haul us in while I was wounded.”

            “…The Professor, then.” T-Bone stated firmly. Razor slumped forward in his seat, surrendering to the plan.

            “Fine. But drive slow.”

            “Slow as we need to, buddy. Hang on.” T-Bone gunned the engine, but kept the acceleration at a much slower pace than usual.

            “And no shortcuts.” Razor added hastily.

            “But…”

            “No.”

            “Awww. Fine.”

 

***

 

_Enforcer Headquarters_

_Commander Feral’s Office_

_The Next Day_

 

            Commander Ulysses Feral reviewed the paperwork from the capture of Wilbur Greymane with what was, unknown to him, unofficially labeled his ‘SWAT Kats face’ by the mid-level Enforcer officers. It involved a deep scowl, his left eye slanted lower than the right, pursed lips, and an overall bearing of someone who was in desperate need of a litterbox.

            The arresting officer’s remarks were informative, to the point, and made note of the fact that the two vigilantes Feral could barely speak to on a good day were responsible not only for slowing the blaze at the 6th Precinct fire station until other fire units could get on the scene, but in stopping the villain known as Backdraft from escaping the scene. That their actions resulted in the total destruction of a store with damages in the amount of 200,000 dollars was left unspoken. No fatalities were at either location, though Backdraft was stuck in a neck brace with acute whiplash and an arm in a sling from a fractured collarbone.

            “Damn vigilantes.” Feral groused to himself. With his longcoat hanging from a nearby coat rack, he still held an imposing figure in his white button-down shirt and worn shoulder holster. Feral was never seen in public without the outer garment, but in the confines of his office, he preferred shirtsleeves. Satisfied with the report, if not with the means by which the suspect was hauled in, he signed off on it and slammed the manila folder in his outbox. The next bit of paperwork on his desk was a requisitions form that had Feral grinding his teeth. _Replacement F-14_ was what was written on the tab. He knew who it was for, though.

            A knock at his door stopped him from opening the file, which he was glad for. “Enter.” He said loudly.

            A moment later, his staff sergeant swung open the door and stepped inside, snapping Feral a sharp salute that was quickly returned. “Commander Feral, your next appointment is here a little early.”

            Feral almost grinned at that. Almost, but he caught himself in time. The quirking of his lip vanished, and he nodded quickly. “Very well, sergeant. Send her in, and then close the door behind you.”

            “Yes, sir.” The sergeant vanished, and a younger, athletic lioness took his place. She was dressed in Enforcer Air Force dress whites, and wore gold lieutenant’s bars on her shoulders. Her hair, black with a white stripe, was trimmed short but still appealing to the eye, and she had an unwavering hard expression. She marched up to his desk, came to attention, and snapped off a salute even more to form than the sergeant’s had been.

            “Lieutenant Feral, reporting as ordered.”

            Feral returned the salute. “At ease, lieutenant.” She went into parade rest, and Feral got up from his chair, walking around his desk so he could stand in front of her.

            The two stared at each other for several seconds, either to gauge the other or perhaps to see who would blink first. In the end, it was the Commander who did so, finally allowing his jaw to unhinge enough for a wry smile.

            “It’s good to see you, Felina.” He held out his paw, and she shook it for about half a second before pulling him in for a back-breaking hug.

            “Good to see you too, uncle.” He patted her back to mirror the gesture of affection, and she finally released him. Feral took a deep breath to restore the color in his cheeks before he stepped back and examined her.

            “So. Fresh out of the Academy. I had some friends keep an eye on you while you were there. I’m heartily impressed, Felina. None of your instructors were told to take it easy on you, but you excelled in spite of everything that got tossed your way.”

            “Nobody’s going to accuse me of advancing through ranks because of nepotism.” She countered fiercely. Feral harrumphed, nodded once in acknowledgment, then returned to his chair and sat back down.

            “Commensurate with your rank and experience, I’m assigning you command of the 6th Squadron, lieutenant.” Felina’s eyes lit up at the prospect. The 6th ‘Tactical Response’ Squadron was a non-dedicated unit of Enforcers, who were considered the troubleshooters in the corps of Megakat City’s protectors. They flew jets and choppers when it was required, but were just as comfortable on the beat patrol or running counterstrike operations. The only thing they didn’t train in was armored cavalry operations, which was exclusive to the tank corps. Feral had been made to see the value in having a group of his military able to adapt to a situation with increasing levels of escalation, but the unit had been drifting somewhat in the wind for the last few years. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to make something of them. They’ve had it easy for too long, and their performance reviews have been flagging.”

            “I’ll get them back into shape, uncle.” Felina said confidently.

            “See that you do, lieutenant. In the meantime, I have a…more pressing matter that requires your attention.” The Commander said with a pause. “I take it you’re familiar with the fallout of Dark Kat’s hostage situation not long ago?”

            “We had to postpone our graduation ceremony because of it. Yes, Commander, I am.” Felina said, reverting to a more formal tone. “You yourself took part in their rescue.”

            _Took part._ The truth of it chafed at the Commander. He hadn’t orchestrated the rescue. He hadn’t led the effort, much as he publicly stated otherwise. No, the truth was that when the mayor and deputy mayor had been kidnapped as a ploy to rub the SWAT Kats out once and for all, he’d played second fiddle to those damned vigilantes. Again.

            “Then you’re also aware that the mayor has decided to fund the purchase of an F-14 Tomkat, at cost, to make up for the loss of their jet?”

            “The Turbokat. Yes, Commander.”

            “According to instructions delivered to the deputy mayor’s office, I am not to be allowed on the premises of Shortclaw Air Base when the SWAT Kats retrieve their replacement jet. However, I’m not about to let such a valuable piece of technology wander off unattended. To that end, I’m making you my pilot on the scene to make sure the transfer goes smoothly.”

            Felina raised an eyebrow. “Umm…All right. Permission to speak freely?”

            “Granted.”

            “You seem to be taking the news of this awfully well.”

            “I’m not, but I do plan on using it to my advantage.” The Commander harrumphed. “Somehow, they’ve always managed to scramble our radar tracking, so we never know where they are when they’re flying, save for visual identification. With this being a new jet we’re handing over to them, I’ve taken the liberty of instructing our engineering teams to add an additional part to the airplane before you fly it to the base for their delivery. When they fly off with it, we’ll have a homing beacon buried inside the belly of it, and we’ll be able to track those hotshots right to wherever they operate out of.”

            “It’s a sting, in other words.” Lieutenant Feral blinked. “You’re going to capture them.”

            “Those vigilantes have been a thorn in my side for too long. The defense of Megakat City is the responsibility of the Enforcers, who answer to our duly elected government officials. They answer to no one.”

            “But they get the job done. And they’ve saved your life a few times now.” Felina argued.

            Feral stared at her, letting that last remark linger in the air for several awkward moments.

            “You have your orders, lieutenant. Carry them out.”

            “…Yes, Commander.” Felina averted her eyes up and straight ahead. “Will there be anything else?”

            “Just one more thing, Felina. A friendly warning.” Feral went on, folding his paws together. “Leadership of the 6th Squadron has, in the past, been a corrupting influence. The ability to operate in multiple roles does not give you permission to act outside of the boundaries of your authority.”

            Like Felina could forget the now famous cautionary tale. Nobody at the Academy ever could. She came to attention again. “Yes, Commander. Permission to be dismissed.”

            “Dismissed, lieutenant. And good luck out there. Megakat City’s a dangerous place.” Her uncle warned her.

            Felina turned about on her heels and marched out of the office, glad to be free of the stifling air. She hadn’t quite made up her opinion on whether or not the SWAT Kats were a public menace or public heroes, but there was one detail she disagreed with her uncle on.

            Megakat City was definitely safer when they were around. And it was more dangerous when they weren’t.

 

***

 

_Professor Hackle’s Residence_

_Megakat Shores_

 

           

            “You really should learn to take better care of yourself, my boy.” The former Pumadyne genius smiled faintly as he balanced himself with one paw on his cane and the other on the bed. Lying in it laid the SWAT Kat known as Razor, his arm tucked in a recovery sling following the surgery. A miracle, Hackle had said in his softspoken way, concerning how much worse the damage could have been. As it was, the surgery had been relatively simple, with no peripheral neurological complications. There was swelling and inflammation, to be expected when one’s humerus was yanked forcibly out of the glenoid socket along with the insult of surgery, but nothing that required more than rest, recovery, and rehabilitation afterwards. “Kats weren’t meant to be thrown off of cars, you know.”

            “Yeah, I know.” Razor nodded. Though his helmet and flight suit had been removed, he still wore his mask, something that they’d insisted on, and which Hackle had honored. “It wasn’t like I had much of a choice in the matter.”

            “It would be easier if you were an Enforcer, yes?” Hackle prodded gently. Razor did his best not to tense up, but his eyes did flicker to the scientist’s face. “Just point a gun and shoot?”

            “…we’re not the Enforcers.” Razor answered steadily. “We only kill when there isn’t a choice. And usually, when they aren’t kats.”

            “Ah. Like plant monsters? Alien bugs? Robots?” Hackle went on. Razor lifted his good hand up in a half shrug. “Just try to be more careful. I know how important you are to this city, Razor. Don’t take gambles with your life. God does not play dice. Neither should you.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind.” Razor said. He looked around the converted workshop, now a medical wing. A pulse oximeter on his finger kept track of some of his vitals, and an IV drip in his arm kept him hydrated. “So when can I get out of here?”

            Hackle laughed a little at that. “The young. How you love to dash off. Tomorrow, I suppose. Give yourself one more day to get well before your friend T-Bone comes to pick you up. There is one benefit to staying here over the hospital, of course.”

            “Not getting arrested by opportunistic Enforcers?” Razor countered dryly.

            “Well, I suppose that as well.” Hackle laughed. He pushed himself away from the bed. “No, I meant the food. What would you like to eat?”

            “Anything?” Razor asked.

            “Anything.” Hackle reaffirmed.

            “Tuna and anchovy pizza. Extra large.”

            “Really?” Hackle raised an eyebrow above the rim of his glasses. “I’m not _that_ hungry.”

            “T-Bone said he’d swing by for a visit tonight.”

            “Ah, yes. Good of him. I imagine he will have quite the appetite after working on cars all day.” Hackle agreed, keeping his expression carefully neutral as he watched Razor.

            The SWAT Kat lay very still for a moment, leaving Hackle to wonder if he should have said nothing at all. Finally, when the silence was becoming intolerable, Razor reached his good hand up to his mask and pulled it off.

            The hard eyes of Jake Clawson, disgraced ex-Enforcer and auto-mechanic at the Megakat Salvage Yard, didn’t blink. “How long?”

            “Have I known?” Hackle mused. Jake offered one short nod. “I was only certain after Mac and Molly hijacked the giant space robots Pumadyne built without my approval. I knew that you and Chance were ex-Enforcers, and that you ran the salvage yard. To see them on the news, driving the hovercraft that had been left in your yard…And then when Feral neutralized them, right after they begged leniency in exchange for your identities…”

            Hackle gave his head a shake, tired white whiskers bouncing slightly. “It was just a matter of putting the pieces together, my boy. I was a very brilliant scientist before I grew tired of it all.”

            Jake sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “So what now? Will you turn us in?”

            “No.” Hackle said instantly. “This is my penance, for all the destruction caused by my hands. All the horrible things I’ve invented. You give kats hope, you and your friend. I only wish I could do more to thank you…but your secret is safe with me. I am only sorry you have to hide who you really are to do what is right. To wear that shame, and keep going. I cannot imagine it.”

            Jake closed his eyes. “I read up on you also, Professor. Yes, you can.”

            Hackle looked a little older after hearing that. How true that barb stung. In his own life, the former Pumadyne scientist was considered a pariah by his friends after his fiery self-imposed retirement. His wife had divorced him long ago, he was a non-entity in his children’s lives. For too long, he had been dedicated only to the job. Now in his twilight years, the cost of that dedication had caught up to him.

            “I suppose I can.” Hackle admitted. “But it gets lonely, this life of yours, does it not?”

            “Why would it matter?”

            “You cannot focus only on the job, Jacob.” Hackle told him. “That is not a life. You need friends.”

            “I have Chance.”

            “You need love.” Hackle added insistently. Jake actually laughed at that, a bitter little thing full of hidden pain.

            “Thought I had it. She left me as soon as we got kicked out.”

            “Then she did not love you.” Hackle shrugged. “When you find a shekat who accepts you for who you are, your victories, your failures, your faults, your merits…then you will have love. Who knows? Maybe there is someone in your life already like that?”

            “Are you fishing, Professor?” Jake snorted.

            “No. I am trying to help you.”

            “What, find a date?”

            “…To not turn out like me.” Hackle whispered. The two kats, young and old, looked at one another, and a measure of understanding passed between them. Both of them geniuses. Both of them dedicated. And if Jake could not change, even just a little, then there were the consequences of it staring him head-on.

            In spite of himself, Jake thought of Callie. And it hurt. He swallowed down the lump and changed the subject. “You’ll order in the pizza?”

            “Call your friend.” Hackle nodded, smiling again. “It should be here in forty minutes.”

           

 

***

 

_Megakat Desert_

_Shortclaw Air Base (Enforcers Reserve Outpost)_

_54 Miles West of Megakat City_

 

 

            Shortclaw ATC had her on their monitors from the moment she cleared Megakat City airspace, and it was a short jaunt at 450 miles an hour. Lieutenant Feral hadn’t even had enough space to take the stripped down jet supersonic, which she would have loved to do.

            Shortclaw didn’t see much traffic aside from use as a training station for Enforcers air squadrons, and the biannual air show. The rest of the time, the sleepy little outpost was used to store extra airframes, most of which were in some state of disrepair or advanced age, but hadn’t yet been dragged off to the Boneyard at Megakat Salvage. Lieutenant Feral was surprised for a few moments to see additional vehicles parked out by the tarmac, but then common sense kicked in as she saw the logos on the sides of the brightly colored vans. Of course the news crews would want to cover this.

 

            With ease, the newest officer of the Enforcers eased back on the throttle, bringing the Tomkat down onto the runway in a nose-up, steady downglide. Her touchdown was picture perfect, rear wheels first, then the nose two seconds later. Keeping enough power to the engines to taxi, she brought the fighter off of the runway and parked it on the tarmac. A ground crew raced out to meet her as the engines finally were allowed to fall silent, bringing a ladder alongside to help her get down safely.

            Multiple cameras were pointed in her direction, though the press were kept back behind a cordon, to Felina’s relief. A blond-furred queen in a familiar pink power suit and heels walked up to greet her as she finished stepping down from the Tomkat.

            “Deputy Mayor Calico Briggs?” Felina wagered. The lieutenant removed her flight helmet and tucked it under her left arm before offering her right hand. “Lieutenant Felina Feral. Your reputation precedes you.”

            “That could mean several things.” Callie retorted, shaking the athletic lioness’s hand.

            “All good things, I promise.” Felina assuaged the deputy mayor’s ruffled pride. “It’s good having a shekat in government who gets things done.”

            Callie’s stern expression melted a bit at that. “As much as I can get done. So, I take it you’re related to the Commander?”

            “He’s my uncle, but I earned my rank through my own efforts.” Felina insisted, adding a little heat to her voice.

            Callie finally wore an honest smile. “Good. So did I.” She turned around, and the two females looked in the direction of the press. “We’ve got a big crowd here for this.”

            “The SWAT Kats always seem to be big news. Having the city giving them a jet to replace the one they lost, bigger still.” Felina said easily.

            “Tell me something, lieutenant. What’s your opinion on the SWAT Kats?”

            “That depends.” Felina said after some consideration. She turned around to face the Tomkat.

            “On what, exactly?” Callie blinked.

            “On whether you’re asking the Enforcer or the shekat under the uniform.” Felina glanced at Callie sideways. Neither one reacted, waiting to see if the other would flinch first. To Felina, this was just a part of how she sized someone up upon first meeting them. She was pleasantly surprised that Miss Briggs wasn’t a shrinking wallflower…but then, considering how many times the deputy mayor had stared down death, perhaps that should have been a given.

            “Take the two opinions and give me something in the middle.” Callie advised the Enforcer.

            Felina looked skywards for a bit, then shrugged. “I don’t want to shoot them. And depending on the situation, I’d give them a pass.” She turned her gaze back onto the deputy mayor. “Well? Happy with the answer?”

            “You’re willing to at least think about it.” Callie folded her arms together and relaxed. “And today?”

            “Hey, I’m just the delivery kat.” Felina held up her paws and chuckled.  She looked around again. “I was right on time. Where are the SWAT Kats?”

            “They should have been here by now…” Callie frowned and looked to the road that ran past the old air base. “You see any dust trails on the road?”

            Felina turned her sharp pilot’s eyes to the base perimeter. There was nothing to see, at least on the ground. When she looked up again, though, a glint of movement in the sky did catch her attention.

            In spite of herself, the Enforcer laughed. “They’re not coming on wheels.”

            “Well, then how else would they get he…” Callie spun her head around, saw which direction Felina was looking, and cut herself off when she also saw what the lieutenant had.

            A hang glider was drifting into Shortclaw’s airspace.

 

            The news crews behind the press cordon reacted as well, with video cameras tilting upwards and shutters clicking furiously.

            “I’ll say this for the SWAT Kats.” Felina mused. “They love to make an entrance.”

            Callie took off her glasses, rubbed them with a cloth, and looked up again. “Yes…yes, they do.”

 

            The glider came down and coasted beside the runway, revealing that it was T-Bone alone who had come. He hit the ground running and eventually came to a lurching stop, with the glider’s nose digging hard into the desert soil. The burly tom seemed a bit more sluggish than usual as he pulled himself out of the glider and swung a backpack that had been dangling from his front around to its more comfortable position over his shoulders. He glanced in the direction of the cameras and waved, then turned and marched for the jet.

            Both Callie and Felina were there to greet him. The lieutenant stood back with her arms folded and her face a mask, while Callie walked up to T-Bone with a concerned look on her face.

            “T-Bone? Where’s Razor? I thought he’d be here for this.”

            “Ah, he’s busy taking care of something else, Miss Briggs.” The pilot soothed her worries. He cracked that wide, confident grin of his. “Besides, you only need one SWAT Kat to make a pick-up. I’m pretty sure there aren’t any emergencies going on right now.”

            Callie shook her head. “For the moment, at least. But I’ll be glad when you and Razor get the Turbokat rebuilt. You’ve become a symbol for the city, and so has your jet.”

            “Don’t worry, Miss Briggs. We’ll be back in the skies before you know it.” T-Bone looked past the deputy mayor and zeroed in on the female Enforcer. “Who’s your friend?”

            The lieutenant stepped forward, sparing Callie the need to make an awkward introduction. “Lieutenant Felina Feral, 6th Squadron.”

            Something seemed to pass over T-Bone at her news, but with his face already masked and his flight helmet in place, she couldn’t tell what. The unreadable shift came and went unidentified, and he was himself again. “I take it you’re related to the Commander? I didn’t think there was a shekat crazy enough to have a litter with him.”

            “He’s my uncle.” Felina repeated, staring back at him, as if to demand that he say anything more. T-Bone wisely let the matter drop and moved on, walking past her to examine the jet.

            His paw traced the contours of its wings reverently, and Felina followed close to him.

            “Gotta love the Tomkat.” T-Bone finally said. “You fly it here?”

            “Yes, I did.”

            “How did it handle?” T-Bone asked casually.

            “If I’d had more time, I would have gone to Mach and played with it a little.”

            He chuckled at the admission and moved around to the back, examining the twin engines. “Hell. So would I. So. Any surprises I should know about?”

            “It’s a stripped down model. No radar, no IF/F, no weapons or ammunition.” Felina told him. “Feral may have had to go along with this, but he didn’t enjoy it.”

            “Old sourpuss? Only thing he enjoys is a good prune doughnut.”

            “Hey.” Felina spun around in front of him and glared hotly. “You may not like him, but he’s my uncle. So can it. He does a thankless job protecting this city, and he’s even saved your necks once or twice!”

            T-Bone held up his paws palms outward. “Okay, okay. Sheesh. Sorry.” Satisfied with his inspection of the jet’s rear, he moved back to its belly and pulled off his backpack. He unzipped the top and pulled out a modified Glovatrix, then slipped it on and powered it up. The forearm plate slid apart to reveal a screen, and he held it up towards the jet as it started to beep.

            “What are you doing?” Felina watched him work with growing curiosity.

            “He may be your uncle, but he’s still an Enforcer. And so are you.” T-Bone replied, keeping his tone civil. “I’m looking for tracers or bugs.”

            Felina flinched. _Hell, he’s going to find it anyways._ “You’re going to find one, if that scanner of yours is any decent. He told me he was going to put one in the ventral compartments somewhere.”

            The beeping on T-Bone’s Glovatrix scanner increased in tempo, finally coming to a rapid whine as he centered it under a small auxiliary wiring panel. “Hm. Yes, he did.” The Glovatrix sprouted a screwdriver, and a minute later, T-Bone pulled the unscrewed hatch open to stare inside. “Got it.” With a quick tug, he jerked a small Enforcers homing beacon out of the jet, dropped it to the ground, and smashed it to pieces under his foot. Felina winced; she wore combat boots, but both T-Bone and Razor preferred to go with bare fur and claws. It gave them an edge on agility, but at the cost of protection. _Tough kat._

            “There. You should be safe to fly it to wherever your base is now.” Felina said. “Happy?”

            “No. Not yet.” T-Bone gave his helmeted head a shake and started up the scanner again. To Felina’s surprise, it kept beeping, gaining speed the closer he got towards the nose and the cockpit.

            Climbing up the ladder, T-Bone looked inside of the Tomkat’s cockpit. He hunched over the RIO’s seat for a moment, fiddled with something, and then came up with a _second_ homing transmitter. He glanced down at Felina and let one eye widen under his mask. “ _Now_ I’m happy.” He remarked, tossing the homing beacon out and away from the jet with a powerful overhand throw. His backpack was tossed into the rear seat, and he removed one final device, which Felina recognized as a radar scrambler. The kind that stealth jets used. _No wonder we could never track the Turbokat on the Air Defense Network. Just where in the hell are they buying their tech from? An inside source at Pumadyme?_

            “You look surprised, lieutenant. Why?”

            “…I didn’t know he’d put in a second one.”

            “Maybe. Or maybe you just didn’t expect me to keep looking and _find_ the second one.” T-Bone said curtly. Lieutenant Feral clenched her teeth, but didn’t look away. The two had a momentary staring contest before the SWAT Kat shrugged. “All right. You didn’t know about it. So maybe now, you’ll trust me when I tell you that Razor and I might know a little bit more about your dear old uncle than you do.” He plugged the radar scrambler into the pilot’s console via an auxiliary wire and mounted it over the radio system, securing it down with two strips of duct tape.

            “I suppose you’ve been butting heads with him since you first put on those masks.” Felina exhaled. T-Bone clambered into the pilot’s seat, and Felina moved to the ladder so she could talk with him face to face. “But whatever your problems with him are, this city needs him. You need him. After all, you and your partner can’t put out all the little fires that happen. You can’t be everywhere all the time, can you?”

            T-Bone paused in his examination of the cockpit, and Felina realized she’d managed to make a point he didn’t have a rebuttal for. It gave her the time to think back on their most recent past actions…and what she’d learned in the aftermath of it.

            “Your partner’s not here.” She went on, quieter than before. “Razor. Backdraft was gloating, in spite of his injuries. Said he’d managed to wing one of the SWAT Kats in his failed escape. It didn’t get mentioned in the arrest report, but he started bragging about it when I interrogated him afterwards. You lied to the Deputy Mayor just now, didn’t you? Razor isn’t working on another project. He’s somewhere, recuperating.”

            T-Bone turned his head in her direction, ever so slightly, and the whites of his eyes met hers again. “You aren’t your uncle.” He said with a soft growl. “You’ve got a brain.”

            “I’m not too bad in the pilot’s seat, either.” Felina countered. “Maybe better than you.”

            T-Bone grinned at that. “Heh. You’re confident, at least. That’s a good trait in a pilot. Let me ask you something, lieutenant…when the next thing that threatens the city happens, are you going to help us, or get in the way?”

            “If it helps save katizens and ends the trouble, I’ll do what it takes.” Felina stated. “That’s one thing I can agree with you on.”

            “There may be hope for this city yet if the Enforcers have a gal like you in command.” T-Bone nodded and strapped himself in. “Keep your whiskers clean, lieutenant. We’ll see you next time.”

            “Count on it. And T-Bone?” Felina added. “I didn’t go looking for Razor in any of the hospitals. Kept that tidbit off of my uncle’s desk as well. You tell him to get better soon, all right?”

            “Roger that, lieutenant.” T-Bone began switching the Tomkat’s systems on. “Tell everyone to get clear. I don’t want to suck up any camera crews through the intakes.” The canopy started to lower, and Felina quickly climbed back down, getting all the unnecessary gear and kats away.

            With the engines whining at low power, T-Bone guided the F-14 off to the runway. Ann Gora and the other Megakat City news teams sent out to witness the jet transfer kept the cameras rolling on the reporters, while Lieutenant Feral and Deputy Mayor Briggs lingered a convenient distance away from the press line.

            “So what did you and T-Bone talk about?” Callie asked, trying to sound casual as she kept one paw raised up to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun off of the jet. It taxied onto the runway and lined up at the center line, with the entire stretch of pavement ahead of it.

            Felina shrugged. “I was just trying to get a feel for the kind of kat he was.”

            “And?” Callie pressed.

            “He’s got an ego to match his muscles.” Felina explained. The two shekats went quiet and lifted their paws up to cover their ears as the Tomkat’s twin thrusters went to maximum power and started to take off.

            Only when it lifted off of the ground and soared into the sky, wiggling its wings, did it get quiet enough again to chat.

            “The SWAT Kats have never been short on confidence. Especially T-Bone.” Callie agreed. “It must be because of how big he is.”

            “Nah.” Felina smirked, thinking of the SWAT Kats’ pilot. “He’s a fighter jock. That’s just how pilots are.”

            “Like you, you mean?” Callie asked.

            Felina blinked at that, and silently added another bit of information about the SWAT Kats to her personal dossier.

            For a vigilante, T-Bone certainly acted like he’d been in jets all his life.

            “Yeah.” Lieutenant Feral agreed, putting her flight helmet back on. “Like me.”

 

***

 

_Megakat Salvage Yard_

_2 Days Later_

 

 

            Callie hated to admit it, but the long drive out of Megakat City out to the salvage yard where Chance and Jake ran their auto repair shop was quickly becoming routine. And not the bad kind of routine, where you do it just because it’s convenient, or expected, or monotonous. Driving her father’s vintage green Longclaw sedan out to the only two mechanics she trusted it with was the kind of routine she did on a Saturday morning because it helped to relax her.

            No matter what was going on in the city, no matter how horrible her job was or what villain had been tear-assing downtown with a plan to mutate, blow up, burn down, or take over the metropolis, she knew that those two wrench turners would always be there for her. They’d have actual coffee percolating, black as her worst moods, a friendly smile, warm conversation, and on most occasions, flirting. Not Jake flirting with her, though. It was always Chance, the bigger tom who thought he was God’s gift to shekats the world over.

            Routines. Chance would flirt with her. Callie would politely turn him down. Jake would try to stay professional, and then Callie would give him her favorite little smile and wave, and the slimmer tom would blush as bright as an Enforcer flare.

            When she turned off of the highway and onto the dirt road which led to the junkyard, she turned the radio station to KCJZ-104, an FM station dedicated to Jazz music which had started up about the time that Megakat Towers had been finished for business—the _first_ time. The smooth trumpet playing of Winton Marpawlis was just another subtle shift in the environment which helped her to shift out of _deputy mayor_ mode…and into the shoes of a twenty-something shekat who had nothing on her plate for the day. Manx was off golfing, she was caught up on paperwork, and the Enforcers were, amazingly, handling the small crises.

            Gone were the high heels and the pink power suit. In the place of what many people wondered was her only outfit were blue jeans and a pink sweatshirt. Her long blond hair was pulled back behind her hair in a braid with a blue scrunchie, and, she thought with a smile, she wasn’t just bringing the boys more work to do. The box sitting in the passenger seat would certainly perk up their day. And they deserved it.

 

            A minute later, she turned off the dirt road and passed through the gates that permitted entry into the maze of junked vehicles, appliances, and scrap metal. She knew her way through the junkyard to the main building by heart, and soon enough, with gravel crunching under the weight of the car’s tires, Callie brought the Longclaw to a stop outside of the auto shop. She could hear the sounds of tinkering inside, and not waiting for an invitation, she scooped up the box she’d brought with her and headed inside through the shop’s open garage door.

 

            Chance’s legs were stuck out from underneath a vehicle jacked up. The mechanic grunted as he pulled at something. “Be right there.”

            “Relax, Chance. It’s only me.”

            “Callie?” The muscular tom jerked up at the sound of her voice, and the heavy thud of his head meeting the metal on the vehicle’s undercarriage made her both wince and smile. “Shiii…Uhh, ow?” He corrected himself hastily, pulling himself out from underneath and rubbing at his sore head through his backwards baseball cap. “Sorry you had to hear that.” He apologized, sitting on the dolly with his back to the car.

            “If I had that much of a lump on my head, I’d probably swear as well.” Callie spun the box around and tilted it forward so Chance could read the logo on it. “My car’s fan belt has been squealing a little. I thought it’d soften the blow if I brought you two some doughnuts.”

            Chance brightened up at that. “Tell me you’ve got jelly-filled in there.”

            “And puff-filled. But there’s a chocolate glazed Bismarck you’re not to touch, understood?”

            “Right.” Chance got up to his feet and laughed a little. “Don’t get between a shekat and her chocolate. Even I know that rule.” Callie opened the box, and Chance popped a claw to spear one of the jelly-filled doughnuts in the front row, one sprinkled with powdered sugar. “Thanks, Callie. It’ll be about an hour before I can start in on yours. I have another oil change to do after I finish this one.”

            “Couldn’t Jake do it? It’s just a fanbelt replacement, nothing too fancy.” Callie offered.

 

            Chance nibbled along the edge of his doughnut, keeping it balanced carefully on his foreclaw so it wouldn’t tumble to the messy floor. He offered a very small shake of his head. “Sorry, Callie, but Jake hurt his arm a couple of days ago, trying to lift more than he should have. Right now, I’m the only wrench turner in the shop.”

            Callie went from curious to concerned in a heartbeat, closing the doughnut box. “No. Is he okay?”

            “I think his pride’s hurt worse than his arm is right now, to be honest.” Chance reassured her with another smile. He motioned with his head off to the first floor office and living room that adjoined their garage. “Seeing you oughta perk him up a bit, though.”

            “You two have my favorite coffee in there?”

            “Well, I prefer a little cream in mine, but yeah.” Chance rolled his eyes. “He was brewing up a fresh pot when I came out to get started on the day’s work. Smelled strong enough to peel paint off of the walls. Just the way you and he like it. I swear, how can you drink that stuff and not end up jittery all day?”

            “We’re not all kittens at heart, Chance.” Callie teased him, reaching up and dusting some powdered sugar off of his whiskers. “Some of us need the caffeine.”

            “At this point, Jake probably bleeds coffee.” Chance pulled back with an uneasy chuckle. “Go on, deputy mayor. This dingy old car garage is no place for a lady like yourself.”

 

            Callie gave him another one of her brilliant smiles, then turned and headed in.

 

            She didn’t find Jake plopped down in the office when she looked, but a quick peek into the living room revealed movement from the attached kitchen. Stepping inside softly and keeping her box of doughnuts level, the blond-furred queen braced herself and went to peek inside.

            There was Jake Clawson, his reddish-brown fur tousled and unshowered. The mechanic was in his usual blue worksuit, but his left arm was tucked into a sling. He gripped a mug of coffee with his right, and the smell of the strong black liquid permeated the air. He blinked as Callie froze, looking at him.

            “Uh…” Jake stammered.

            Callie saved him by hefting the box. “Morning, Jake. Doughnut?”

            “…Sure. Thanks, Callie.” Jake set his coffee on the counter and reached for the box. “Let me get that for you.”

            “No. Don’t strain yourself, Jake. I can take care of it.” Callie brushed off his offer. “Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll bring you one?” She placed the box down on the counter as well.

            Jake frowned at that, and took a step towards her. “Callie, I’m not…” He stuttered to silence when her palm came up and rested against his chest, stopping him from going further. Her green eyes shimmered, capturing him.

            “Please, Jake. Go sit down. For me.”

            Against such a plea, the slim and injured tom had no argument. He swallowed, nodded, and when Callie pulled her hand back and moved to the side, he sidled past her and moved into the living room. Callie took in a breath, startled at what she’d done, and glanced at the counter.

            _He forgot his coffee._

 

            When she came back out, she carried a plate with two whipped-cream filled doughnuts in one hand, and his mug of coffee and one for herself in the other. Jake was sitting on the far end of the couch, sitting up rigidly straight.

            _He’s…nervous._

            “You forgot your coffee.” Callie spoke up, setting it and the plate down in front of him.

            Jake registered her voice, turned and looked at her. “Thanks. I…I guess I’m still a little shaken up.”

            “Anyone would be, after hurting themselves like you did.” Callie reassured him, sitting down beside him on the couch. The tom flinched at that and gave her a strange look that unnerved Callie to a degree. He seemed shocked? Confused?

            “Chance told me that you tried to lift more than you should have, ended up hurting yourself. What did you do, lift an engine block barehanded?”

            “Oh.” The pensive look on Jake’s face drained away immediately after she spoke. “No. No, I’m not that crazy. Chance can, but he’s built like a firehouse. I just…I guess I was distracted.” He picked up his coffee and took a drink.

            “Kind of like you are now.” Callie pointed out, lifting her own mug up and drinking from it as well. “Are you going to be all right?”

            “I’ve been hurt worse.” Jake reassured her. “I’ll get through this just fine, I just need some rest.”

            “Well, Chance seems to be taking care of you.” Callie agreed. She leaned back against the couch and sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait around here for him to get done with the other cars before he gets around to fixing my fanbelt.”

            “Heh. At least you know what’s wrong with your car.” Jake chortled. “Your dad taught you, right?”

            Callie smiled warmly at the memories of her father, who had also been an auto mechanic. “Yes.”

            Jake nodded, taking another sip of coffee. The break in the conversation stung her a little.

            _Whenever I bring up why I like coming out here so much, whenever we start to talk about family, or my dad, you just…Go quiet. Why, Jake?_ She suspected it had something to do with his own family, but Jake always steered the conversation away from the topic before she could get a peep out of him. All she knew was that he was from Katlanta. Beyond that…he was mum.

            “So. How’s things been in the city?” Jake asked, predictably switching gears.

            Callie reached for her Bismarck and took a small bite out of it. “Quiet. Well, at least for big problems.” She said. “I heard that the SWAT Kats caught a pretty nasty arsonist a while back. Not a peep out of any of Megakat City’s bigger villains, thankfully. And the Enforcers are keeping on top of regular crime.”

            “Good. You probably get tired of putting out fires all of the time.” Jake said. Callie looked at him, and he smiled a little. “Yes, I know. Horrible pun.”

            “ _Very_ horrible.” Callie agreed, although she did smile a bit after shaking her head. Well, at least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “But in spite of that, regular crime’s been…on the rise. Or it was until the arsonist. Maybe kats thought that without their jet, the SWAT Kats wouldn’t be able to stop them. Taking down Backdraft showed them otherwise.”

            “Good. I personally wouldn’t mind things being quiet for a while.” Jake agreed. “Thanks for the doughnuts, by the way.”

            “You’re welcome. But you’re not eating them.” Callie pointed out.

            Jake shook his head. “I had an early breakfast. Don’t worry. I’ll have it for lunch.”

            “Well, all right.” Callie closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the gentle hum of the room’s overhead fan, and the distant sounds of Chance working in the car garage. When she opened them again, Jake was up and halfway across the room, taking his now empty coffee mug with him. “So how’s business been?”

            “Eh, about the same, I guess.” Jake called back over his shoulder. “We don’t get as much traffic as the places inside of the city, but we manage. We get some jobs running tow services for Triple A, and then we have a couple customers like you who come back because they trust our work.”

            Callie waited as he poured himself another cup and came back into the living room before she spoke again. “So, there are others who bring you something to nibble on a Saturday morning?”

            Jake smiled at that, and the warmth of his expression seemed to fill the room. “No. There’s nobody else quite like you.”

            “Thank God for that.” They clinked their mugs together as he sat back down, and then he motioned to the TV. “Now that Chance has done his morning cartoons and is out working, I’ve got the run of the remote. Got anything you want to watch while you’re waiting for him to finish your car?”

            Callie shrugged. “How about that one channel which does nothing but old movies?”

            “You’ve got it, Miss Briggs.” Jake reached for the TV remote.

            “Call me Callie.” The blond-furred queen said suddenly. Jake jerked a bit and looked over, trapped in a suddenly stern stare. Her face softened when she realized how she must have looked. “Jake, look. I go all week being called Miss Briggs, or Deputy Mayor, or _ma’am_ by people who just see the position, who don’t know me. You’re not just my mechanic, you’re my friend, both Chance and you. So call me Callie.”

            After a pause, Jake nodded. “Okay. Sorry, Callie.” He clicked the TV on and moved ahead until he found the channel he was looking for.

            It was an old noir crime drama in black and white that was on, and the two kats fell into watching it. It was a show that, lacking special effects and a full orchestral soundtrack, made up for it with remarkable characters, great acting, and simplicity.

            Once or twice, Callie caught movement out of the side of her eye. A flicker from Jake’s right arm, as the recuperating mechanic lifted his paw up as though to ease it over the back of the couch, putting it dangerously close to her shoulder. The first time it happened, she wondered if she wanted him to do it. The second time, she _did_ want him to try and pull her closer.

            But he didn’t. Like always, just as there was a flicker of something that might be more intimate and less professional between them, some dark shadow passed over his face. His arm stilled, and his paw retreated.

            For a few precious moments, Callie had daydreamed of what it would feel like for Jake to pull her close to him. What the fur along his neck would smell like, or what the warmth of his chest would feel like if she curled up against him. It was patently obvious that Jake had thought the same, or else he would have never even tried to start the attempt. Why he didn’t…confused her. Back when they’d first met, she would have appreciated the professional distancing. Now, though? Now that she used this place as a reminder of what home had once been, and thought of them as friends?

            “I wonder why I really come here.” She mused softly.

            “Hm? You say something, Callie?” Jake grunted, shifting his attention away from the movie.

            Callie shook her head and reached for her coffee. “No. Just mumbling, is all.” She answered him. They both went quiet, drinking their coffee and watching the television for a few more minutes, until she got up.

            “Going for a refill. You want another one, Jake?”

            “No, I’m good. Thanks anyway, Callie.” Jake answered her with a smile that was friendly, but lacking in any deeper warmth.

            When she reached the kitchen and started pouring out some more of her favorite elixir, Callie realized two things, and wondered why she’d had such insight into two such distinctly separate issues.

            One; the SWAT Kats never called her by her given name either.

            And two…what did Jake mean when he said that he’d been hurt worse?

           

            “Hey, Callie!” Chance shouted in from the garage. “Want me to take a look at your suspension? Long as you’re here, I may as well take a peek.”

            Shaken from her reverie, Callie cleared her head and picked up her mug. “Sure, Chance. Just don’t start any work without telling me, all right?”

            “You’ve got it!” Came the reply from the burly striped tom. Callie made it to the kitchen doorway before she realized she’d forgotten what she was just thinking about. She stood there, lingering just outside of the living room for about half a minute trying to recall what it had been before she caught sight of Jake looking at her quizzically.

            _Ah, well. It probably wasn’t important anyways._ She resolved. Smiling, she went back inside to finish watching the rest of the movie with Jake while Chance worked on her car.

            The SWAT Kats had a new jet, even if it would take them who knew how long to get it tweaked to act as the new Turbokat. The Enforcers had a shekat on the force who knew how to take care of business, and cared more about results than the process, and Megakat City would pick itself up, like it always did.

            For now, though, it was a Saturday morning. And sitting there, drinking coffee and relaxing, Calico Briggs was right where she belonged.


	3. Reasons To Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Turbokat's a wreck after the showdown with Zed, Jake wonders if he and Chance even have a life beyond the mission, and Felina finds herself with a mystery that will strain her loyalty.

**_SWAT KATS: REASONS TO LIVE_ **

 

By Eric “Erico” Lawson

 

**Looking forward to the future, kats fly into the horizon.**

**For a city they love, they sacrifice everything.**

**But when they land, and the silence of night falls…So too, does loneliness.**

**Trust is hard to earn and harder to give. That is why it is so precious.**

 

***

 

_After “Unlikely Alloys”_

 

 

            The Turbokat didn’t so much fly home as it limped. The damage that their afterburners had caused to the rear of the craft had shattered the jet’s maneuverability. What was left of its ailerons, trim tabs, and rear fin rudders had been charred beyond recognition. It hung on by a thread, and were T-Bone a lesser pilot, it would have crashed. Without their radar scrambler module, they were forced to drop altitude as soon as they crossed the Megakat City limits on a southwest course to throw off any trajectory predictors before doubling back southeast to put them on course for the junkyard. All the while, they had to stay below 25 meters so the Enforcer’s radar network couldn’t track them. It had been the longest 3 minute flight that either of them could recall in a long while, with Chance forced to rely on the VTOL jets just to keep the Turbokat from crashing.

            But at last, the junkyard came into view. With a push of the ‘garage door’ remote control, T-Bone opened up the hidden entrance to their underground hangar and facilities, and the Turbokat finally, resignedly, touched down into the tunnel. T-Bone coasted the last 30 meters of it, and the jet finally came to a stop on the rotating hydraulic lift. The engines died out with a whine, and both of the SWAT Kats let out the breath they’d been holding. The lift started to take them up out of the launch tunnel and to the hangar proper.

            “Well, that was a thing.” T-Bone said, offering a weak chuckle.

            “What was?” Razor asked, playing along.

            “Feral. Almost complimenting us.” T-Bone popped the canopy open. “Too bad we had to save the city from being renamed Crater City to make it happen.”

            Usually, Razor would offer some comeback at the Commander’s expense, or play the pragmatic card about how they didn’t do this for glory or gratitude, but because it needed doing. But he didn’t this time. Instead, he stayed silent as the lift finished rotating the jet back around.

            “Razor, you okay back there?” T-Bone asked.

            Razor unstrapped himself, jumped out of the Turbokat, and then walked back slowly to the rear of the jet. T-Bone followed a moment later, and found his partner looking up at the crisped metal. The paint had flaked off, and what was left of the back end was an ash gray.

            “I’ll have to replace or refabricate everything back here.” Razor muttered.

            “Well, yeah, but we can do it. Hell, we built the Turbokat from scratch, then did it a second time and tossed in those suborbital boosters and the Speed of Heat drive.” T-Bone rested his paw on his friend’s shoulder to comfort him. “And you’ve got me to help you.”

            “We damaged the Turbokat, we sacrificed the Hoverkat, and the Megalaser’s first live combat test was pitiful.” Razor reached up and removed his helmet, then his mask.

            Jake Clawson stuffed the mask of his SWAT Kat persona into his flight helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Mac and Molly probably got away clean, and Greenbox got hauled away for psych testing, when he should be rotting in prison for what he did. Today…wasn’t a win.”

            “We saved the city, buddy.” T-Bone removed his own helmet and mask, returning to the persona of Chance Furlong. “That’s always a win. Come on. What’s bugging you? You can’t be disappointed in your tech. It worked great like always. Zed was just a little bit more than we could handle.”

            “Yeah.” Jake lowered his head. “I guess I’m just…tired.”

            “Yeah. So am I, after that ride home.” Chance patted Jake’s shoulder again, then motioned for the lockers and the ladder that led back up to their living room. “Why don’t you go ahead and order us in a pizza? I’ll see what I can do to start the repairs down here.”

            “No. You order the pizza, I’ll start the repairs.” Jake mumbled.

            Chance intercepted him, standing in his way like the immovable wall of muscle that he was. “Jake. You need a break. I’ve got this.”

            Jake looked up, ready to argue, but the worried look on his friend’s face took the argument right out of him. He nodded, turned, and walked off to change.

            Chance shook his head and made his own examination of the damage. Deflating, he had to admit that Jake’s spot assessment had been dead-on. The Turbokat’s flight control surfaces would all need to be torn out and replaced. It’d be at least two weeks’ worth of junking, part searching, repurposing, installation, fine tuning and repainting before the Turbokat would fly right again.

            Looking at how Jake had been holding himself, how he was acting, Chance felt a certain amount of worry. His friend had been worse; that scheme of Dark Kat’s had nearly succeeded in draining all the confidence and fight out of him. This was close to that, but different.

            Chance wasn’t sure what was eating at Jake exactly, but he knew it was something serious. Combat fatigue, maybe. Or hopelessness.

            He needed a break. Maybe they both did.

 

***

 

_Megakat City_

_Bernie’s Firehouse Deli_

_The Next Day_

 

            Lieutenant Feral, commander of the Enforcers 6th “Special Response” Squadron didn’t spend all her time in the air running patrols. Sometimes, she hit the beat in a cruiser, the same as the rest of her men. And on those days, which were a monotonous routine of traffic stops at best and ended in shootouts at their worst, she found that having a refuge from the job helped. Luckily, there was someone who agreed with that sentiment. Someone who she just happened to be friends with, after too many close calls and narrow escapes. Someone else that was a shekat stuck with the grunge work.

            Parking her squad car and dropping a pair of quarters into the meter, Lieutenant Feral walked into a hole in the wall sandwich shop that had refused to bow to the pressure of skyscrapers and the concrete jungle. Bernie’s Firehouse had kept the name through two generations of Bernies, with the original deli kat’s son, Bernie Jr. now running the place. It sat on the ground floor of a three story building which had once been an actual firehouse before the MCFD moved on to newer quarters, and in spite of its rough looks, saw continued business. There was some talk these days about franchising, but the original restaurant’s rustic look, the owner had emphatically stated, wasn’t about to change. Neither was how they made their sandwiches; fresh bread every day and a full delicatessen with meats brought in from a local butcher. The prices were reasonable, and if one got past the rough looks and told themselves they didn’t need fancy napkins, or a need for a tie, they found that the place made some of the best damn sandwiches ever. And their potato salad was to die for.

            The firehouse was plenty full of kats being the lunch hour, and Felina scanned the interior, finally locating the deputy mayor in her familiar pink power suit, waving from a small table off and crammed in next to the wall. Felina walked inside, receiving nods and friendly waves from the other patrons. Dressed in her patrol uniform, Felina automatically commanded respect, and the regulars around here knew her by now. Everyone seemed to brighten up when she was here, if only because they felt a little safer knowing that there was a cop on scene if anyone tried anything stupid.

            She sat down across from Callie and glanced up at the long line at the register for a bit before noticing the numbered tag sitting beside Callie’s elbow. “Oh, good. You already ordered.”

            “They’re busy today.” Callie nodded. “I barely got a seat, but Junior’s wife strong-armed a malingerer out of the shop to make room. I guess I can add that to the perks of being the deputy mayor.”

            “Hey, there has to be something good to come out of the job.” Felina smiled. She hoisted up the glass of water left for her and took a long drink of it. “Boy, this morning’s been a giant headache. How about yours?”

            “I’ve been trying to convince the mayor that instead of giving another tax cut to the elite because of our surplus, he should use it to shore up the retirement plans of municipal workers.” Callie rolled her eyes. “Two guesses as to what his opinion about it was.”

            _The tax cut. All the better to keep his ‘friends’ who give him the money for his re-election campaigns._ Felina looked up at the ceiling with a frown. “I don’t need to guess.”

            “So, lots of traffic stops?”

            “Dumb traffic stops. I had this cheeky bitch who nearly got sideswiped by a truck because she was busy checking her makeup instead of paying attention to the traffic light. Needless to say, she got _two_ tickets. One for a failure to stop, the other for arguing about it.” Felina sighed. “Traffic day has to be my least favorite. I’d rather be flying patrols.”

            “Okay, that’s enough complaining about our jobs for now.” Callie said. “Let’s talk about something a bit more cheerful.”

            “Well, have you heard about this one UHF station, Channel 71?”

            “Heard of it. Never watched it.”

            “A lot of kats didn’t, until this one program, _Mysteries of Megakat City_ changed its content.” Felina paused as a waitress came by with their lunches, set the plates down on the table, and collected the number tag. “Oh, this looks good. You remembered my favorite, Callie.”

            “Tuna salad on rye with prosciutto, lettuce, and banana peppers, no cheese?” Callie smirked. “It isn’t that hard.” She reached for the toothpick stabbed through her own club sandwich and pulled it out, poking it through the mound of potato salad next to the sandwich. “So, what’s special about them?”

            “Before they did ghost stories, unsolved mysteries, that sort of thing. They actually got us a few leads on some old cold cases, which made my uncle happy. But the big thing they’re doing now is trying to figure out who the SWAT Kats are.”

            Callie nearly choked on her second bite of sandwich at that. “They’re what?”

            Felina shrugged and chewed on her sandwich, letting the deputy mayor process it a little more.

            “Why would they be doing that?” Callie finally spoke, after taking another drink to wash her lunch down.

            “Because those two are always news-worthy. I think they started examining the issue for ratings, but it’s sort of ballooned into where it is now.” Felina shrugged. “There’s actually a betting pool that my uncle doesn’t know about for who the SWAT Kats really are.”

            “You’re kidding me.”

            “No, I’m serious.” Felina smiled.

            Callie pushed her plate to the side and rested her head on a fist. “All right…so what are their guesses?”

            “They’ve been examining candidates for a while now. They started off with the notion that Bruce Mayne was actually one of them, and that some friend or employee of his was the other.”

            “What, that billionaire bodybuilding playboy that the mayor’s always asking for money from?” Callie made a face. “That tom is an absolute joke. And personally, I find him repugnant. He hit on me once at a charity ball. Well, several times. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I threw my glass of wine in his face and walked away. Manx chewed me out afterwards, but it was worth it to see the look on his stupid face.”

            “You have to admit, he does have a pretty impressive physique.”

            “You’ve worked with the SWAT Kats before, Felina.” Callie raised an eyebrow. “Can you see Mayne risking his neck to save anyone’s life?”

            Felina shrugged. “Personally, no. But the odds in the betting pool are currently 4 to 1 that he’s T-Bone.”

            Callie sighed. “I know I’m going to regret this, but…who else have they tried to pin down as being the SWAT Kats?”

            “Oh, a few others. Some of their guesses are based on the notion that the SWAT Kats have access to a pile of money and loads of free time. Other guesses are that they’re not rich themselves, but are being funded by some eccentric, which I admit does make more sense.” Felina nibbled at her sandwich some more before continuing. “The way they fly…how they handle themselves in a fight, their tactics, it’s military. Probably not Enforcers, because they’re on a different level than most. Air Force maybe, or they received their training from some retired ace. So there’s a slew of theories about them being related to Bill Drisclaw or Steve Scratchie, even though neither of those aces ever reported having a kid.”

            “I get the feeling that they’re grasping at straws.” Callie shook her head. “I’m not even sure if I’d want to know who they really are.”

            “You’re not curious?”

            “I’ve been curious since they first saved my life.” Callie admitted. “But is it worth knowing? Would the Commander ever tolerate them if it was known who they really were? Or would he ride out in full force and arrest them? He’s put out warrants on them before, most of them from before you joined the force.” She spooned up some potato salad and smiled sadly. “They hide themselves for a reason. As much I wonder about it, I’ve come to accept that maybe it’s better if I don’t know for sure. If nobody ever knows.”

            “I haven’t placed a bet myself, mostly because none of the guesses seemed close enough to be right.” Felina offered. “And you’re probably right about my uncle. He’s too set in his ways and in the rulebook to admit that this city needs them as much as it needs the Enforcers. Publicly, at least.”

            “See? I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

            “You mean besides my ability to find the best eats in town?” Felina grinned, which caused Callie to stick out her tongue. The two laughed and started to dig back in their lunch with gusto.

            After the sandwiches were gone and they were working on their sides, potato salad for Callie and chips for Felina, the lieutenant moved to a new topic.

            “So, Callie. You seeing anyone these days?”

            The blond-furred queen paused for a moment before spooning up some more of the firehouses’ famous side dish. “Why? You want to know if they have a friend?”

            “Just curious.” Felina answered carefully. “You are one of Megakat City’s most eligible bachelorettes, after all. Your name came up in a Metropolitan poll.”

            Callie gave her head a shake. “No, I haven’t. None of the guys I meet because of work interest me.” She looked at Felina. “What about you?”

            “Ah. Well.” Felina shrugged. “If the name doesn’t scare them off, the rank does. Actually, I have been daydreaming a bit about someone lately…”

            “Not Bruce Mayne, I hope?”

            “Oh, please. I’m personally hoping he isn’t T-Bone, because then I’d have to find someone else to fantasize about.”

            Callie blinked at that. “You? Like T-Bone?”

            “That surprise you?”

            “Well, a little. I mean, he’s a vigilante, you’re an Enforcer. Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?”

            “Yeah, that’s why it’s a fantasy.” Felina smirked, looking out of the firehouse window. “He’s a tom that gets it done, outflies everyone else, but still sticks to his code. Not to mention, he fills out that flight suit rather nicely.”

            “Heh.” Callie took her glasses off and started to clean them. “Well, I guess we’re still okay, then. If you had a thing for Razor, I might be jealous.”

            “You? Like Razor?”

            “That surprise you?” Callie asked, turning Felina’s own words back on her. “I think of T-Bone as a distant friend. He’s a great guy, and he’s one heck of a pilot. I guess that’s why you like him. He’s someone who you have everything in common with, aside from the uniform.”

            Felina pushed her chips away and leaned in over the table. “And what do you like about Razor, exactly?”

            Callie laughed, blushing a little. “Lord, are we really doing this? Gossiping about dream guys over lunch?”

            “Yes. Now spill it, Calico.” Felina prodded with a widening grin.

            Callie sighed and put her glasses back on. “I guess…he’s always there to save me. Razor doesn’t have any bluff or bluster in him. Not like T-Bone. He knows when to be quiet, to just be there.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “But it wouldn’t work out. Even if I worked up the nerve to ask him…He’d refuse.”

            “How do you know that?” Felina folded her arms. “He might say yes.”

            “No.” Callie shook her head. “He’s friendly, but he’s always distancing himself. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting me. Or maybe he’s just not interested.” The deputy mayor rocked forward again and picked up her spoon. “In any case, he’s not who I…” She stalled herself out, blinking as she realized what she’d begun to say.

            “Oh ho. Got another one lined up?” Felina set her paws down on the table and leaned forward with a predatory gleam in her eye.

            “No.” Callie snorted. “He hasn’t asked me yet. And if he keeps things up, I may have to ask him.”

            “Who is he?” Felina demanded.

            “Uh-uh, lieutenant.”

            “Hey, it’s my obligation, as your friend, to vet any guys you’re interested in. So tell me, who is he?”

            Callie smirked. “I’m pretty sure he isn’t your type.” She stuck some more potato salad in her mouth and giggled as Felina started to pout.

            “You do love your secrets, don’t you?”

            “Just the good ones.” Callie said, looking off at nothing.

 

***

 

_Megakat Salvage Yard_

_That Saturday_

            The sound of a car horn honking outside the garage pulled Chance from the reverie of his welding work on a vehicle’s fender. Killing the flame before taking off his welding mask, he glanced over to Jake, and the two shared an understanding nod.

            They knew that car horn all too well.

            Jake had his paws full, covered in grease as he worked on rebuilding an engine. “You’d better go say hi, Chance. You’re not as grubbed up as I am.”

            “Sure, but I’m not the one she comes here to see.” Chance teased him, winking.

            Jake furrowed his eyebrows at the implication, then tried to deflect it. “I thought you had a crush on her.”

            “Yeah, sure I did. Who wouldn’t? But these days, I’ve got a different lady on my mind.”

            “Oh, please, spare me the details.” Jake sighed. “Just…get out there, would you? She’s not due for an oil change, so it might be something serious.”

            Chance held up his arms in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’m going, sureshot.”

            “ _Thank_ you.” Jake got back to work and Chance headed outside.

            Calico Briggs was standing beside her Gullwing doored ’64 Longclaw in blue jeans and a white T-Shirt. Her long blond hair was tied back in a ponytail with a blue scrunchie, and she gave Chance a wave as the mechanic emerged. “Morning, Chance.”

            “Morning, Miss…” Chance paused as one of her eyes narrowed, and he hastily amended his greeting. “…Sorry, Callie.”

            “Better.” The Deputy Mayor relaxed again. “Sounded like you two were busy in there.”

            “Oh, we’ve got a few big projects going on right now, yeah.” Chance took off his baseball cap and smoothed down his mussed fur. “A lot of repair work. So, what’s wrong?”

            “The brakes are squealing, and not responding as well as I’d like them to.” Callie explained. “Think you can take a look?”

            “Probably you just need the bearings cleaned out. I’ll see how worn out your brake pads are.” Callie handed Chance the keys, and he stepped into the car, pulling the door down after him to close it. “Go ahead and go grab yourself a cup of coffee. I should be able to tell you how things are looking in five minutes.”

            “Thanks, Chance.” Callie smiled at him. “Jake inside?”

            Chance put the car in first gear and nodded at her through the window, coasting the car into the shop.

            Thirty seconds later, she walked into Jake’s field of vision with two cups of coffee.

            “Morning, Jake.” She said quietly. The mechanic glanced up and smiled faintly before turning back to his work.

            “Hey, Callie. What’s wrong with the Longclaw?”

            “Brakes, I think. Chance is looking at it right now.” Callie set his coffee down a foot away from his workspace on the bench and stepped back.

            “Ah, good. If there’s something wrong with it, he’ll find it.” Jake nodded. “How have things been otherwise?”

            She fidgeted a bit, rocking back and forth in her tennis shoes. “Oh, fine. Megakat City is still standing, thankfully.”

            “Well, good.” Jake chuckled, still fiddling with the engine pistons. “I have to buy our groceries somewhere.”

            Callie stood there, waiting for him to go on, but instead the slender mechanic lapsed into silence. She frowned at him, and he ignored it.

            “So how have you been?” She asked, picking up the conversation again.

            “Oh, there’s good days and bad.” Jake answered, not looking up. “Just like with any other job.” His distracted attitude chipped away at her good mood, and Callie leaned a little more into his vision.

            “Aren’t you going to drink your coffee?”

            “In a minute. My paws are grubby, and I don’t want to have to wash up twice.”

            “Do you need clean paws to have a conversation with me?” Callie demanded.

            “Well, usually…”

            “Jake, stop it.” She cut him off. “I know what you’re doing.” That finally made him look up, but he didn’t seem surprised at how sharply she’d read him. “Do you want me to leave?”

            “That would be the smart thing, yes.” He said, giving up the ghost.

            “Why.” Callie said flatly.

            Jake set down the guts of the car engine and reached for a shop towel. “Because I’ve got projects to finish up. I don’t have time to…”

            “To what?” Her piercing emerald eyes bored into his soft brown ones. “To talk to a friend?”

            “Are we?” Jake threw the now greasy towel over a towel bar to dry out. “You shouldn’t be friends with me. With us.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you’re…and we’re…” He fumbled with his answer.

            “Do you hate me?” She pressed.

            “No.”

            “Do you not like me?”

            “No!”

            “Do you care about me?”

            “Yes!”

            “Then _why haven’t you asked me out yet_ , Jake?!” Callie shouted at him. Their conversation had grown heated enough that they’d missed the sounds of Chance working further back in the shop slowly quieting. When she snapped the question at him, the silence that followed was punctuated by the noise of Chance dropping a screwdriver on the concrete floor.

            Jake’s face contorted, too blended with emotions for Callie to discern it accurately.

            “You…you shouldn’t…It wouldn’t work.” He got out, in strangled fashion.

            “Why, Jake?” She pleaded with him. “I like you. I don’t care that you’re a car mechanic. You make me smile. Why not give us a chance?”

            Jake looked down at the floor. “You deserve someone who can be with you all the time. I can’t be. I just…It wouldn’t work.”

            “How do you know until you give it a try?”

            “Because I know.” Jake shook his head, and his ears flattened down against his skull. “It’s better this way. No matter…no matter how I feel.” He looked back at her, and this time, there was nothing but an apologetic askance.

            “So that’s it?” Callie set her coffee cup down and let her arms drop to her sides. Jake nodded slowly, and she cracked a sad little laugh as her eyes misted up. She took her glasses off with one shaking hand. “I guess I was right about you.”

            “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

            “Don’t be.” She rubbed the tears away. “I told Felina this was how it’d go. It was stupid of me to believe you’d change.” She walked past him and spoke to Chance, then got in her car and drove off. All of that escaped Jake’s notice as he stood there, deaf to the outside world.

            At last, the sound of Chance’s steel toed workboots approaching pulled him back to the present.

            “She’s gone.” Chance told him softly.

            Jake nodded. “How was her car?”

            “Gave the bearings a quick dose of WD-40. The pads are good for another 2,000 miles or so.”

            “Good.” Jake’s voice was hollow. “Good.”

            Chance walked around him and picked up the abandoned cups of coffee. “I thought you’d go for it.”

            “Really?”

            “No.” Chance admitted. He went over to the water fountain and poured the brown liquid out. “But I’d hoped you might.”

            “You know why I couldn’t.”

            “Yeah.” Chance took off his cap and rubbed his head. “Doesn’t mean I don’t hate it.”

            “We knew what we had to give up when we put on the masks.” Jake told him wearily. “It doesn’t do us any good thinking about what might have been.”

 

***

 

_Megakat City_

_Kostco Supermarket_

_3 Days Later_

 

            One of the other aspects about being the leader of the 6th Squadron was that Lieutenant Feral was forced to keep odd hours. While others would do their grocery shopping either at the end of the workday if they weren’t retired, or in the morning if they had kits in school, she did hers when she got off shift…usually late at night, like tonight.

            The last can of tuna slid across the laser scanner in the checkout lane, and she slid her bank card through the reader of the self-service kiosk to finish her purchase. With little fanfare, the still uniformed officer bagged up her groceries and headed out into the dead of night. Her food for the week went into the passenger’s side seat of her small, sporty sedan, and she climbed in a few moments later. The engine started up with a slight flutter of the starter, and then she was off, driving down the main streets towards her neighborhood.

            She was headed down Persian Street when she saw an Enforcer sedan pulled up behind an old, banged up tow truck with its lights flashing. For a moment, she almost kept driving on. It had been a long day, and all she wanted to do was get home, make herself a late supper, and laugh a little at David Litterbin before hitting the sack.

            _But he might need support, and how would it look if he ended up shot dead and on the news tomorrow?_

            With a long suffering sigh, Felina reached through her window and slapped the emergency police light on her roof. As soon as the magnetic clamp settled on the roof, the light clicked on automatically. She pulled in behind the Enforcer police cruiser and stepped out. It only took a second for her to realize that stopping was a good idea.

            “You talkin’ back to me, you trash? Don’t think I won’t haul your tail in for disrespecting an officer!”

            “Hey, long as I don’t take a swing at you, you’ve got no grounds. Even though you deserve it!”

            Felina emerged at the nose of the Enforcer cruiser in time to see and hear the officer posture in front of a seething tom in mechanic’s overalls. His tone was even more threatening. “Yeah? I could put you away and nobody would blink.”

            “I might.” Lieutenant Feral said, clearing her throat loudly. The officer and his traffic mark looked back at her with equal reactions of surprise.

            “L…Lieutenant Feral?” The officer stammered. Felina’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

            “I _was_ on my way home when I thought I might see if you needed any assistance with your traffic stop.”

            “No, ma’am. I’ve got this taken care of.” The Enforcer said quickly.

            “Was he speeding?”

            “No, ma’am. He had a broken tail light.”

            “It was fine until you kicked it in.” The driver of the tow truck said heatedly.

           

            Felina stopped the back and forth with a wave of her hand and moved up to examine the busted tail light in question. Yes, it certainly was broken, but a quick examination quickly showed why.

            She dug out a piece of the red plastic from inside of the housing and held it up for both of the other kats to see. The edge of it glimmered with black boot shine.

            “You start kicking in lights, you should remember that freshly polished boots leave residue.” The shekat snapped hotly.

            “I…I…”

            “Enough.” Lieutenant Feral cut off the panicking Enforcer. She handed the piece of evidence to the mechanic and marched until she was nose to nose with the officer in question. “Your name. Your badge number. _Now_.”

            All the bluster blown out of him, the Enforcer supplied the information. Felina jotted it down in her notebook, bagged the busted in tail light in a plastic baggie, and then told him to get the hell out of there. The mechanic watched with a bemused expression, and even waved as the Enforcer drove off, leaving him and Lieutenant Feral alone.

            “Sorry that happened. I’ll be filing a report on this incident. If you’d care to make a statement, it’ll help with the insurance.” She said to the orange/brown furred tom.

            He was slim, but carried definition, and there was a sharpness to his eyes. And something about him seemed familiar as he gave his head a shake and slipped his cap back on, putting the bill of it backwards. “No, that’s okay, officer. I’ll just fix it myself when I get back home.”

            “You shouldn’t have to put up with that. The Enforcers are better than that, believe me.”

            “I believe you’re better than that. Him?” The tom gave his head a shake. “Well. Even if you got rid of him, it wouldn’t change things.”

            “Why?” Felina asked, now curious. She _knew_ this kat. But how, she couldn’t quite place. Then again, it was late at night.

            The kat shrugged, looking uncomfortable about the topic. “They’ve been pulling this crap for years. It’s not going to stop overnight just because you put one smug prick in his place.”

            Even more puzzled now, Felina squinted as she examined him. She _knew_ this kat.

            “Who _are you_?” She demanded.

            He blinked back at her, looking over her uniform. His eyes seized on her unit insignia.

            He sighed and looked away. “If I tell you, can I get in my truck and drive back home? I had one last delivery to make, and I don’t want to miss David Litterbin.”

            _Whoever he is, at least he has good taste in comedy._

            Felina kept her arms at her sides and nodded. “Yeah. Been a long night for the both of us, I think.”

            “Okay.” He nodded, seeming older and more worn down than when he’d been facing off against the Enforcer just minutes earlier. He pointed to the patch on her uniform’s breast pocket. “I used to have your job.”

            After that, it was a half-second’s work to make the right connections.

            The 6th Tactical Response Squadron. A troubled unit who’d been without a leader until she was promoted to the position.

            He used to be affiliated with them.

            _Jake Clawson. And Chance Furlong._

 

            Jake must have seen the lightbulb in her brain go off, because he turned and headed for his truck without saying another word. He put the truck in drive and pulled off, headed for the highway on-ramp that led out of the city.

            Felina watched him leave, and it was only after he was just another blur of light in a stream of them that she got back into her car and drove for home. Everyone in the Enforcers knew the cautionary tale about the ‘two hotshots’ who thumbed their noses at regulations and made a reputation out of being daredevils in the sky. Until they’d finally taken one risk too many…and their jet had crashed into Enforcer Headquarters because of ‘pilot error.’ The building had recovered, but their careers hadn’t, and they’d supposedly been sent somewhere to rot after being dishonorably discharged.

            Apparently, their permanent re-assignment wasn’t too far from home.

 

***

 

_Megakat Salvage Yard_

_24 Minutes Later_

 

 

            Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d stumbled into the last screwup of their short, eventful careers as SWAT Kats. Even before they’d first suited up, back when they had just been prepping the old Megawar II bunker into their hangar and adjoining facilities, he and Chance had understood that they’d have to take barbs without responding. Former Enforcers, all who knew them and some who’d worked beside them, would absolutely have to view them as washouts. Even a hint of their old personalities resurfacing might have given away enough of a clue for those in the know to connect the dots.

            So for years, they’d endured it. Burke and Murray were just the most visible nuisances, but it went beyond that. The occasional wrongfully written speeding ticket. Being pulled over just to get spat on. They’d hung their pride out on the line and let it be destroyed, all for the illusion. The act.

            _Why did you talk to her? Why didn’t you just thank her and drive off?_

            Two minutes interacting with Lieutenant Feral…all of that work, all of that swallowed pride, shot to hell. If anyone could make the connection, it was her. She was too stubborn a detective to let obvious clues slip. He didn’t know how she’d react once she put it all together. She could either turn them in, or forget about it. Let it slide. He wasn’t sure, and the not knowing ate at him.

            _Why couldn’t you just…_ But he couldn’t. From the moment she pulled up, he was screwed. Felina would have gotten the information about who he was eventually.

            The junkyard was quiet when he pulled off of the dirt road. Only he and Chance stayed in it, and he closed the gate behind the truck, padlocking it shut so nobody would come in and mess around while they were sleeping.

            Pulling the tow truck into the garage, he examined the damage to the tail light with a shake of his head. He had spare parts for it; it’d only take him about three minutes to get it back to street legal status. He didn’t have the energy to get to it tonight, though. He’d left Chance down in the hangar when he took off to do their shopping, and based on the absence of noise coming from their two story shack, he was still down there working on the Turbokat.

            That jet. Building it the first time had been a monumental undertaking. Building it the second time, even with an F-14 airframe, hadn’t been a picnic. The Turbokat was larger and had a bulkier belly than the original frame; it had to, to accommodate their internally stored payload as well as all their vehicles. The Cyclotron. The Turbomole. The Hoverkat.

            Jake shut his eyes. How many incredible inventions had he made over the years? Counting the vehicles, the missiles, the delta packs…Too many for him to even try to count.

            The ring of the telephone snapped him out of his pity-party. He headed into the office’s garage and pulled it from the hook.

            “Megakat Salvage Yard, Chance and Jake’s Garage.” He said automatically. There was someone on the other end of the line, he could hear background noise, but they didn’t speak. “Hello?”

            _“Jake. It’s Tony.”_

            Jake felt his stomach sink. His brother was calling. “Hey, Tony.”

            _“Mom’s dead.”_ His brother’s voice was calm, but rough. Jake took the news and screamed inside his mind. But he offered no outward sign of emotion. That wasn’t the Clawson way. No, they just kept it all bottled in, stayed perfect in public. It didn’t matter how much of a dick you were at home, so long as it stayed home. Though he was long gone from Katlanta and everything that went with it, that chief lesson kept Jake from crumbling.

            “H…how did it happen?” Jake asked, when he could speak again.

            _“Heart attack. She passed in the hospital. I thought you might want to know.”_

            “I’ll get some time off. Drive down there.”

            _“…Jake. Dad doesn’t want you at her funeral.”_

            Jake ground his teeth together at that. “I see.”

            _“Everyone here pretends you don’t exist. Don’t come, Jake. It’d just make things harder.”_

            Jake crumbled at that. “She’s my mother too, Tony.”

            _“Yeah. But she’s gone now, and dad says you’re not his son.”_

“And I’m not your brother, then?” Jake snapped.

            There was silence on the phone line, and at length, the connection was cut off. Jake set the phone back on the cradle and stared at it hard for another minute before moving into the kitchen.

 

            That was where Chance found him an hour later, an entire six pack of fermented milk pulled off of their plastic rings and lying empty on the table. Jake held the last can as he leaned back against his chair, eyes red.

            “Jake…what’s wrong?”

            “Just the world falling apart. Nothing unusual. For us.” Jake answered with a sick little laugh.

            Chance sat down across from him and sucked on his teeth. “What happened?”

            “Felina stopped a crooked Enforcer from arresting me on the drive home, and she’s probably gonna figure out who we really are. I told Callie off, which was stupid, even if it was the smart thing to do. Oh, and my mom died today.” Jake threw the can across the room and put out that odd little laugh of his again when it splashed against the wall in an explosion of foam. “I can’t even go home to bury her.”

            “…your dad?” His larger friend wagered knowingly.

            “And my brother too. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

            “Yes, it does.” Chance said sadly. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

            Jake must have cried out all his tears, because even though he looked like he wanted to, his pupils were dry. “We deserved so much more than this, Chance.”

            They had, Chance knew. But they were shot down, right in their prime. Before they ever had a chance to really shine. There was so much more they could have done, and even now, fighting as the SWAT Kats, it was all just a feeble attempt to do something, _anything_ , to prove they still had meaning.

            “Do you think anyone would miss us if we just…disappeared?” Jake offered up hollowly.

            There was danger in that sentence. The fur on the back of Chance’s neck went up at it.

            “The mission’s not done yet.” Chance answered firmly.

            Jake slowly looked up from the table to his partner. “The mission.”

            “You told me that as long as Megakat City needed defending, we’d be there to defend it.” Chance reminded him. “It still needs us.”

            Jake snorted. “It doesn’t want us.”

            “Too bad.” Chance smirked, offering up a little levity. “When have we ever cared about what other people thought?”

            Jake cracked a smile. Weak, and forced, but it was still there. A glimmer of hope cracked through the hopelessness. “My family sucks.”

            “You think mine’s any better? The only one who still talks to me in my old neighborhood is Pops.” Chance countered. Jake snorted at that, and his burlier friend relaxed. The danger had passed. “Come on, Jake. Let’s get you in your rack. We’ll get you a glass of water on the way.”

            “I’m not thirsty.” Jake protested as Chance hoisted him up over one shoulder and led him out of the kitchen.

            “Oh, you will be.” Chance promised. “Remember all those one day passes our classmates took at the Academy?”

            “Ohhh, yeah. I’m not that drunk.”

            “Could have fooled me, buddy.” Chance shook his head. “Could have fooled me.”

 

***

 

_Megakat City_

_2 Days Later_

 

 

            _Traffic patrol_. Felina chewed on the day’s rotation like a sour grape as she stayed in traffic, watching how others slowed down because of her presence. _I hate traffic patrol._ At least tomorrow would be better; she was scheduled for some much desired flight rotation in her Enforcer jet. She just had to get through the rest of today’s shift without biting some idiot’s head off.

            _“Dispatch to Unit Garfield six-four. Come in, Garfield six-four.”_

Felina winced. That was her cruiser’s ID code. She picked up her radio. “Garfield six-four. Go ahead, Dispatch.”

            _“We have a report of a 10-50 in your patrol area at Felix and Halverson.”_

Felina held back her groan. _And there goes my day._ “Roger, Dispatch. Unit G-64 is 10-67 to Felix and Halverson.” She hit her lights and siren, and the cars around her eventually cleared as much of a path as they possibly could.

            It took her three minutes to get to the scene, and when she did, her bad day got infinitely worse. Just at first glance, she could see that one car had crashed into the passenger side door of the other vehicle, clogging traffic. The driver of the vehicle that had done the crashing looked disoriented, but it was the driver of the crushed in car that had Felina worried.

            It was a green ’64 Longclaw, a car before the age of airbags. And the driver was Deputy Mayor Calico Briggs.

 

            Felina quickly radioed in for backup, an ambulance, and tow services, then headed in to deal with the accident and assess damage.

            A few seconds speaking with the man confirmed what Felina already suspected; he was dazed and clearly under the influence. That put him at fault if the damage wasn’t enough, and she made a mental note to do a breathalyzer test after checking on Callie.

            Her friend was in far worse shape. She was bleeding from her forehead, the windshield and side was crushed in, and she hadn’t gotten out of the car yet.

            “Oh, lord. Callie!” Felina reached for the door handle and yanked it open, examining the deputy mayor. Callie stirred, groaning a little, and tried to turn her head towards Felina. “No, don’t! You might have a cervical fracture, just hang on.”

            “I turned my head earlier. It hurt, but I can still move.” Callie lifted an arm up towards Felina to make the point. “Felina?”

            “Yeah, it’s me, Callie.” The lieutenant confirmed. “Can you move your legs?”

            Callie was slow to respond, but she could indeed. The heels of her pumps caught on the floor of the car and fell away from her feet.

            Felina let out a tense breath. “Good. No nerve paralysis. We’ll still have to be careful, but I think you’re all right. Why haven’t you gotten out of the car yet, if you can move?”

            “Because I don’t want to look at it.” Callie said.

            “Look at what?” Felina blinked. “The accident?”

            Callie slowly lifted her head up away from the steering wheel and turned her head ever so slightly in Felina’s direction. She had been crying.

            “My father’s car.” The deputy mayor croaked out. “It’s ruined.”

            Felina glanced at it. The vehicle had survived being flooded with fetid swampwater, crashing headfirst into a streetlight during the Katchu Picchu incident, and more, but it had never been horribly disfigured. Until today. The other car had T-boned it, and the Longclaw was partially wrapped around the other car’s crumpled in front end.

            Felina pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry.” She said, at a loss for what else to offer.

            “It’s all I have left of him.” Callie went on.

            “Come on.” Felina unbuckled Callie’s belt strap and helped her out of the car, keeping her turned away from it. The whine of approaching emergency units cut into the dull drone around the scene of the accident. “We need to have EMS take a look at you.”

 

            Luck was truly on Callie’s side. She had minor lacerations along her face from where shards of glass from the passenger window had sliced at her, and there was a lump on the side of her skull along with a mild concussion from the resulting force of the impact, but she’d likely be discharged from the hospital that same day. The other driver, just as Felina had suspected, had been under the influence. Paramedics gave him a once-over, and then the lieutenant took extreme pleasure in cuffing him and shoving him in the back of her cruiser. By that point, backup had arrived, and traffic congestion was being eased.

            Right before the ambulance took off with Callie in it, the tow truck arrived. Felina did a double take when it pulled up; she recognized the truck and its plate number. She’d seen Jake Clawson driving it 2 nights ago, after all.

            This time, a burlier, taller tom was behind the wheel, though wearing the same blue worksuit that the ex-Enforcer had. His name on the lapel cemented what she already was guessing at; Chance. Chance Furlong.

            “Chance!” Deputy Mayor Briggs called out. Chance got out of the tow truck and headed over to the ambulance worriedly. He spared only a brief glance in Felina’s direction before putting all his attention on the deputy mayor, and Felina found herself following him.

            “Hey, Callie. You all right?” Chance asked.

            “A few bumps. A nick here and there.” She assured him. “I’ll be okay.” She bit her lip. “Will my car be okay, though?”

            Chance looked back over to it and masked his flinch, though he did scratch absently at the side of his face. “I don’t know. It looks pretty bad.” He looked to Felina. “If I could ask, Lieutenant…”

            “Feral.” Felina said, feeding him the name he was reaching for. “The other driver was OWI. The deputy mayor was making a legal left turn, and he plowed through a red light and smashed into her.”

            “Bastard.” Chance muttered, shaking his head. He looked back to Callie. “It’s pretty bad. I’ll have to get it in the shop and have Jake help me give it a better look before we can tell you anything. But I know how much it means to you, Callie. We won’t give up on it unless it’s…”

            “Don’t say it. Please.” Callie shut her eyes for a moment to compose herself. When she opened them again, she moved on. “How’s Jake doing?”

            “He’s…” Chance started, but paused before settling on a bland answer. “He’s Jake.”

            Callie offered a watery snort. “Yeah. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

            Chance sighed. “I’d better get to work. I’ll give you a call tonight, Callie, let you know how things are.”

            “You need a hand?” Felina asked as he started to turn away.

            “No thanks, lieutenant.” Chance called back. “You’ve got the harder job right now.” He left the two shekats be, and brought his tow truck around so he could separate the two vehicles.

 

            Felina glanced over to Callie, who was being loaded onto the ambulance gurney for transport to the hospital. “Fellas, I need a little more time with the witness.” She told the EMTs. The two kats glanced at one another, and after deciding there was nothing immediately life threatening, bowed to the Enforcer’s demand, making themselves scarce.

            “What now, Felina?” Callie asked wearily, now that they were alone.

            Felina looked over to Chance, then back to her friend. “You know him?”

            “Yeah. He and his friend Jake are my mechanics. They run a small garage out of the salvage yard south of town. They’ve been keeping my dad’s car running for a couple years now.” Finally noticing Felina’s odd expression, Callie frowned. “Why?”

            “…Chance Furlong. Jake Clawson.” Felina said.

            “Yes, that’s them.” Callie said impatiently. “Do _you_ know them?”

            “I’ve heard of them.” Felina murmured. “But not because of what they do now.”

            “I don’t understand. They’re mechanics. They fix cars, and do a damn good job of it. What are you saying?”

            “I’m saying they used to be Enforcers. Co-captains of the 6th Tactical Response Squadron.” Felina mused softly, watching the muscles in Chance’s back flex powerfully as his paws pushed unyielding metal aside just enough to slip tow hooks in between the vehicles.

            “…What?” Callie uttered dizzily. “But they never…”

            “Told you?” Felina finished. “I’m not surprised. They were dishonorably discharged after a certain incident. I don’t imagine it’s something they’re proud of. Or like to remember.”

            Newly informed, Callie stared at Chance with wonder and suspicion. “Two of them.” She whispered, and something seemed to click. “How come I never heard about it?”

            “Everyone in the Enforcers knows what those two did. They’re a cautionary tale, about following orders and not taking stupid risks. But it doesn’t get talked about outside.” Felina looked away when Chance finally looked back over at them, sensing their eyes. “Huh.”

            “…what are you thinking about?” Callie asked her friend.

            “Me? Nothing at all.” Felina lied.

            The deputy mayor closed her eyes. “Neither was I.” Felina looked back down at Callie, frowning.

            _You had the same thought I did._

            “Okay. Get better, Callie. I’ll check in with you after I get off shift tonight.”

            “Thanks, Felina. You want to get some dinner, come visit me at the hospital so I don’t starve?”

            “You’ll be out before you know it, Calico.” Felina smirked, patting her friend’s hand. “No, I’m afraid I can’t. I have some research to do tonight.”

            With a groan of metal, the two cars in the accident finally separated. Callie’s ears flattened out, and Felina whistled to get the attention of the EMTs.

            “Get her out of here, guys. We’re done.”

 

***

 

_Enforcer Headquarters_

_That Evening_

_6 th Squadron Offices_

 

 

            With some hesitation, Sergeant Courgry Barnes approached the office of his squadron commanding officer, Lieutenant Feral. The blinds of her window were down and drawn, but the light was on inside. Just before coming off shift, he’d been relayed a message that she wanted to speak with him. He could have done without that notification, considering that he was only a year and a half from retirement on full pension. Meetings like this were almost never good ones. Especially with the window drawn.

            Putting on his best face, the aged jet pilot knocked on the door.

            _“Enter.”_ Came the gruff female voice from inside. Barnes took another breath to reassure himself, then stepped inside.

            Lieutenant Felina Feral was sitting at her desk, a mess of papers laid out in front of her. Personnel reports, he noticed, before bringing his eyes up to meet hers. He came to attention and snapped off a salute. “Sergeant Barnes, reporting as ordered, lieutenant.”

            “Close the door and have a seat.” Lieutenant Feral’s coat was hanging from the wall hook designated for it, and her uniform shirtsleeves were rolled back with her pistol still sitting in her shoulder holster. Much like her uncle, in that respect; she preferred to do her paperwork still wearing her sidearm.

            Barnes did as ordered and sat down. “What’s this about, lieutenant?” He asked, too old and too tired to mince words or wait for her to get around to the topic. Felina smiled a little in response.

            “Direct as always, Barnes.” She said. “All right, fine. In figuring out how I can further improve this unit’s performance, I thought I’d do a little historical digging, see how things were done in the past.” His eyebrows went up at that, but she kept going. “The Tactical Response Squadron was co-commanded when it was founded, which in itself was unusual. Ordinarily, Enforcer squadrons have one CO. Unfortunately, information on their methods, memos, filed reports…there wasn’t a whole lot to go on.”

            “Not surprising.” Barnes said with a nod of his head. “Those two boys were never big on paperwork.”

            “Captains Furlong and Clawson, you mean.” Felina clarified.

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “I did, however, note that almost all of the squadron’s original membership had been transferred to different units by the time that I assumed command. That is, with the exception of you. Now why is that?”

            Barnes shifted a little under her gaze. “They kept sendin’ us rookies after everyone else shipped out. Figured someone needed to show the nuggets the ropes. Might as well be me.”

            “That’s nice of you. Now what was the real reason?” She deadpanned.

            Barnes sighed. “Ma’am?”

            Felina waved a paw towards him. “You have my permission to speak freely. Swear if you like. I’m just after answers.”

            “What kind of answers? The official line, or the truth?” Barnes snapped back. This time, Felina was surprised, and she gestured for him to go on. “Listen. I’m less than two years from retirement. I’d like to keep it that way. So if you want me to open up, you need to promise me you’re not going to shitcan me.”

            “You want that in writing?”

            “Do I need it in writing?”

            “…If I were my uncle, you might.” The two kept their staring contest going for a while longer, and Felina broke. “Sarge, nobody ever talks about Clawson and Furlong except in the framework of the story they tell every Academy class. You’re the only one still in this unit who knew them. I like having you around. You keep the younger ones in line, and you’ve helped me keep this squadron run smooth since I took over. I’ll keep you around as long as you want to stay. So tell me about them.”

            Barnes scratched a fleck of dirt off of his uniform collar, then sighed and relaxed back in his seat. “All right. Those two were in the same Academy class. They were roommates. You’d look at them and think they were oil and water. Furlong, he was the local boy. Pride of his block. All he ever wanted to do was be an Enforcer. Protecting kats, being the hero. And I swear, he _lived_ in his cockpit. Lot of swagger, but behind it, miles and miles of heart. Bit of a temper, but then, I suppose that’s why he got along with Clawson.”

            Felina set her elbows on the desk and leaned forward, listening intently.

            “Furlong had heart. Clawson…he had brains for days. He was from Katlanta. Poor family, but one hell of an engineer. For him, serving in the Enforcers was short term. Guy planned on getting out after his rotation, getting into Kat Tech on military scholarship. He didn’t talk about it much, didn’t talk much about anything aside from strategy and tactics, but he had guys from Pumadyme interested in him even before he got out.”

            “You’re kidding.” Felina uttered.

            Sergeant Barnes laughed. “Nope. Honest truth. He was a super brain. Not bad in a scrape, either. Furlong was big into wrestling, grapples, judo, or flat out street fighting, but Clawson, he was all about pinpoint strikes, karate. Precision.”

            Felina leaned back, jotting down a few notes on a yellow legal pad. “So how’d they get put in charge of the 6th Squadron?”

            “Easy. They came up with it.” Barnes shrugged, ignoring Felina’s dumbfounded expression. “Standard Enforcer response to a crisis is what, exactly? Escalation? More patrol cars, roll out the tanks, sortie entire air wings? Chopper backup?”

            Barnes folded his arms over his chest. “It’s a hell of a way to do things. Put more kats into the line of fire, risk loads of expensive military equipment, drag out the conflict. Those two knuckleheads, though, they put forward a proposal. One of the only times I ever saw Chance Furlong’s name on a report, actually. Their argument was, why not tackle crisis situations, the really bad ones, with a small, specially trained force of rapid responders? Feral hated it, of course, but he was taking flak back then from rising crime rates, and he needed some kind of a solution to get Mayor Manx off of his ass. So, your uncle figures, he’ll put his OK on it, but give these two freshly graduated officers just enough rope to hang themselves with. Then, when the plan doesn’t pan out, he can mothball it and go back to business as usual. He’s a good commander, he plays the politics game, but he’s got no vision.” Barnes rolled his eyes. “Steamed his whiskers when in spite of everything, Captains Furlong and Clawson start getting results. Getting traction, respect. Sure, sometimes things got messy. But problems got solved, hostages got freed. You hear about innocents getting caught in the crossfire, you get sick to your stomach. We never had a single civilian casualty when they ran this outfit. And Feral, he started getting angrier. They were making him look bad.”

            “I never heard this before.” Felina said. Barnes just looked at her like she was stupid, and she looked away. _Like Uncle Ulysses would tell me if it was._ “This is real?”

            “You wanted the truth. I’m one of the few kats still wearing a badge who remembers it. The only reason I can sit here talking about it is because I kept my damn mouth shut. But I was in the air with ‘em that day.”

            “…The Skyport crash.”

            “Yeah.” Barnes murmured, and he looked at the ground. “Dark Kat was on the warpath, flying like a madman. We sortied after him, but jetting through downtown Megakat City…it’s risky, dangerous, and if you make a mistake, you’re gravy and a building collapses. Only those two could match him in their double seater. Furlong was the best damn natural pilot I’ve ever seen, and he kept up. Got them in close enough for Clawson to tag the bastard with a missile. They had a second shot lined up, but then the Commander horns in. Tries to take the kill for himself. It was their tag, lieutenant. Furlong even yelled it over the radio twice. They had a lock. _It was their tag._ ”

            Felina swallowed at that. Rules of Engagement were clear. Once someone had the tag, you left it to them. It was more than courtesy, it was a matter of flight combat safety. “And…then they lost control. Bailed out. Their jet crashed into headquarters.”

            “No. They didn’t lose control. It wasn’t pilot error.” Barnes stared at her. “Your _uncle_ hits his afterburner, blows past them, and _clips their fucking wing_. They bail out somehow before the jet is beyond all control, Dark Kat gets away, and just like that, it’s all over. The accident was your uncle’s fault. The official story is, what? That they reported engine trouble early in the engagement, but refused to RTB? That they endangered their own lives and the lives of everyone in the building by not bugging out when they were told to? That they put the mission at risk for the sake of their own egos?” Barnes had a sour look on his face. “I haven’t thought about that day in a long time, lieutenant. We lost our captains that day, and the rest of us were given a gag order. Shut up, or we’d face jail time ourselves. Of course, he didn’t actually arrest them. He couldn’t.”

            “How come there’s no evidence of this?” Felina demanded. “Something this huge…”

            “There’s no evidence because Commander Feral didn’t want there to be any evidence.” Barnes explained coldly. “You ever wonder why no formal charges were filed? Why they got hauled away to ‘work off’ their debt, instead of serving out their nine lives in prison? It’s because he had just enough control and authority to stifle the damn incident, as long as _it didn’t get out of control._ If they’d gone to trial, kats would find out about the evidence tampering. About the truth of what happened. And he couldn’t have that.”

 

            Felina sat quietly, then started to slowly shake her head. “No. This is…he wouldn’t do that. My uncle is a good kat. Stubborn, yeah, but he wouldn’t…”

            “He wouldn’t what? Do everything possible to make sure he stayed in power? In control?” Barnes cut in bitterly. “Feral protects Megakat City, he serves it, but you’ve run enough ops now that you know he has one solid mantra: _My way or the highway._ ”

            Felina went quiet, and Barnes rocked in his chair for a bit. “What happened to those two was an outrage. And as upset as I am about it, I’m just as upset with myself. Because I said nothing. Did nothing. Because I was too old, and too concerned about myself to make things right.” He shrugged again. “I guess that’s what happens when you get old. You stop caring about others. All the fire gets burned out of you. When you’re young, you want to charge up the hill, risk your neck. But the older you get, the harder it is. Maybe your uncle and me have more in common than I’d like to think about.”

           

            Felina set her paws down on her desk, sliding papers out away from her. “So…what am I supposed to do with this?”

            “Do? Nothing.” Barnes quipped. “It happened. You wanted to know how to make this unit better? Don’t ask me. Ask them. But then again, maybe you shouldn’t.” He stood up and smoothed out his uniform. “The last time this unit crossed your uncle, he sent it into a tailspin. Take my advice, or don’t. Believe me, or don’t. You asked for the truth, lieutenant, and I’ve said it to you. Just remember, you gave me your word. This conversation never happened. And I’m retiring in a year and a half. Full benefits.”

            Felina nodded, and Sergeant Barnes headed for the door. He paused with his claws wrapped around the handle, and mustered one last laugh.

            “Ironic.” He said.

            “What is?” Felina asked, still shaken from their conversation.

            “Was just thinking…maybe if Feral had modeled the Enforcers after what the 6th did, we wouldn’t need a couple of hotdogging vigilantes to keep saving our asses.” The old tom said humorously. Felina’s head jerked up, and she stared at the old sergeant’s back as he left. Respectfully, he closed the door.

 

            Felina stared at her notes. She could see the patterns. The parallels.

 

            T-Bone and Razor. The ace pilot, and the tech genius.

            The muscular, raw force, and the sharpened edge. Blunt force, and precision. It was in their _names_.

            Their body builds. Their personalities. The brash one. The quiet one.

            Their tactics. Their techniques, both in the air and on the ground.

            Everyone had always assumed the SWAT Kats were billionaires with money and time to burn, or the children or secret students of Air Force jockeys.

            Nobody had ever thought to look closer to home. And nobody ever would. If Barnes was right…if Uncle Ulysses had really done everything that the sergeant had said he’d done…

            **_“Maybe now you’ll trust me when I tell you that Razor and I might know a little bit more about your dear old uncle than you do.”_**

_“He’s got an ego to match his muscles.”_

“It’s them.” Felina whispered.

            In masking the truth of what had happened, Commander Feral had sown the seeds of the SWAT Kats. Without knowing it, he had made it possible for them to operate undetected, without anyone connecting the dots.

            Until now.

 

***

 

_Calico Briggs’ Apartment_

_Close to Midnight_

 

 

           

            Chance had called. The damage to her car was severe, and putting the Longclaw back to rights…it’d be way too damned expensive. She’d already thought of the possibility, in spite of her fearful desire not to, but hearing it straight from him sunk all of her hopes.

            But right now, she wasn’t thinking about her car, or her father, or broken dreams and lost memories.

            She was thinking about them. About _him._

            Callie felt stupid for not seeing it. She probably would have gone the rest of her life without seeing it, had she not encountered Chance Furlong at a moment when Lieutenant Feral also happened to be present. The painkillers she was on numbed the aches in her body and the pinches of sharp pain along her face where stitches and butterfly strips covered the lacerations. They did nothing to calm the feverish storm of whirling thoughts in her head.

            Felina probably had the same suspicions, but her friend was more analytical. She’d see the possibility, but refuse to acknowledge it until she researched it completely. But Callie didn’t need that. She’d known Chance and Jake for years. Known the SWAT Kats for just as long. And it all made sense, in her heart.

            Why the SWAT Kats always insisted on calling her Miss Briggs, and stayed professional.

            Why Chance and Jake were so friendly and approachable.

            Why Jake refused to take a chance…in spite of how he felt.

 

            Callie knew. She _knew_. And yet…there, at the finish line, her instinctive, marvelous warm heart tripped over hard-won rationality. Knowing in her heart wasn’t enough.

            She sat in her living room’s recliner, staring out of the window over the Megakat City skyline. On the coffee table in front of her was a half-full glass of water she hadn’t touched in fifteen minutes, and the contents of her pink purse, scattered out pell mell.

            In her shaking paw was the comforting, familiar weight of a triangular communicator. Her lifeline to the SWAT Kats.

            All she had to do to know for sure was to press the button. Just…press the button. Ignore the instructions they’d given her all those years ago, and call in spite of the fact it wasn’t an emergency.

            She just had to press the button.

            Her thumb traced the edge of the communicator uselessly, while she became intensely aware of her own breathing.

            Her wristwatch beeped its hourly alert, and she let out a small gasp of surprise. That brief jolt shocked her hand into motion, and her thumb came up and depressed the center button with a mind of its own. She stared down disbelievingly at it, at her hand. She froze.

            Seconds passed, Callie didn’t know how many. The communicator came to life, and Razor’s voice echoed out of it.

            _“Yes, Miss Briggs? What’s the trouble?”_

            She tried to speak, but couldn’t. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

            _“Miss Briggs? Are you there? Miss Briggs!”_

            Callie swallowed back the lump in her throat. “I…I’m here…”

            _“Oh, thank goodness. For a minute, I thought…never mind. What’s the trouble, Miss Briggs?”_

            She closed her eyes, visualizing him as if he were in the room right there with her.

            “I’m okay.” She said shakily.

            _“Is the city in danger? Is it being attacked?”_

            “No. Megakat City is safe.” He would be there in his blue and red flight suit, with his mask and his helmet. She saw him remove the hardened headpiece away, his ears flicking after emerging from inside.

            _“…Then why did you call us?”_ Razor demanded, and as the fervent panic in his voice faded for irritation, she could hear the utter, absolute fatigue behind it.

            In her mind’s eye, Razor reached for the edge of his mask, and slowly pulled it away. The face underneath, always a blank puzzle, took on blurry, familiar features.

            She knew, but she had to know for sure. Swallowing one last time, feeling warm tears burning at the corners of her closed eyes, Callie tried to speak. To ask all the questions she’d wanted to.

            _Did you think I wouldn’t find out?_

_Why would you lie to me?_

_Why didn’t you trust me?_

 

            All of those hurt, angry, confused, thoughts boiled down and condensed. Her tongue, heavy and leaden, finally moved. One word, choked and on the edge of a sob, escaped her lips.

            “…Jake?” Her teeth bit down on her lip, and she wavered, fearfully quiet, afraid to breathe.

            She could hear him breathing, though. Shallow. Shaky. Shuddering.

            He ended the call.

 

            And Callie wept.

 

***

 

_Megakat Salvage Yard_

_2 Days Later_

 

 

            The junkyard that Jake and Chance maintained was more than busted up cars and appliances. Beyond the scrap metal heaped up in piles, it was also the site of the Enforcers Boneyard, where aged and destroyed planes and equipment was hauled off to. Ostensibly, the Boneyard was supposed to act as a depot for spare parts and serviceable planes that could be recommissioned, similar to the Boneyards of the Air Force and Navy.

            But what something was supposed to be, and what it actually was were two different things. Nobody ever came from the Enforcers maintenance garage to look for parts, a decision which stemmed from on high that newer was always better. Some planes and helicopters towed in were in fact absolute wrecks, little better than scrap, but then there were those planes that had simply been outmoded and replaced. As a result, the Boneyard was full of relics, far too many of them in good condition. It was stupid and a waste of money, and the SWAT Kats reaped the benefits.

            Callie knew. Jake, looking akin to death warmed over, had told Chance the bad news the morning after her midnight call. Since then, his friend and partner had sequestered himself in their hangar, working on the Turbokat with rigorous intensity. The brawnier tom could hardly fault him for it. If Callie knew, then Felina had probably already figured it out, or would. And then it was just a matter of time before the Enforcers came to arrest them.

            When that happened, the least they could do was try to have the Turbokat looking pristine again. So when Jake had asked Chance to go out and check the Boneyard for replacement flaps and wing sections, he’d done so without complaint. Thus, with a plasma cutting torch being fed power from the portable generator set on the bed of their junkyard truck, Chance slowly cut away the critical section of a fourth and final wing strut from an old Enforcers jet. It was even a double seater, like the one he and Jake used to fly in.

            With a groan, the metal strut and flaps gave way and collapsed to the dusty soil of the junkyard underneath the jet. The ground had a rusty red appearance, and it kicked up a cloud of particulates after the hard impact. These jets were smaller than the Turbokat, so Chance had taken two for each wing. He and Razor would have to fabricate what they needed out of the pieces…but then, the Turbokat had always been a custom job.

            With a sigh, Chance Furlong killed the plasma torch and removed his welder’s mask, squinting as the high sun beat down on his eyes with full force again.

 

            “You’re a hard kat to find, captain.” Chance knew that voice without looking, for as often as he’d worked with the shekat who owned it. Sure enough, after relaxing his shoulders enough to calm down again, when he looked down he saw Felina in blue jeans, combat boots and an olive green tanktop leaning up against his truck. Her own car was parked fifteen feet away. She’d snuck up on him while he was noisily cutting through the planes.

            Chance gave her a deadpan look. “Haven’t had that rank in years, lieutenant. It’s just Chance these days. And that’s unusual gear for an Enforcer on patrol.”

            “It’s my day off.” Felina told him.

            “And you decided to swing by the Boneyard?” Chance hopped down from the defaced jet and started spooling up the torch’s conduit. “You’re more bored than I thought.”

            “Well, I’m definitely not as busy as you.” Felina glanced meaningfully at the wing sections already shoved into the back of the yard truck, then pointed to the fourth piece still lying on the ground. “What’s the hardware for?”

            “I’m makin’ a windmill.” Chance lied, keeping his eyes away from her.

            “Funny. I thought you’d be rebuilding the Turbokat after the beating it took with Zed.” Felina inferred.

            It was intentional goading, but Chance had been expecting something like this to happen for days, and he was mentally prepared for the barb. “The Turbokat?” He snorted. “Like I’d know anything about that.”

            Felina rolled her eyes. “T-Bone, you can stop lying. I know, all right? I put it all together.”

            Chance forcefully threw the coiled up plasma cutter line onto the truck bed and generator. “So now what? You here to arrest me?”

            “No.” Felina gave her head a shake. “I came here to talk. Not to stop you and Jake from…being who you are.”

            Chance stopped in his fuming and looked to her curiously. “Say what?”

            Felina pulled herself off of the truck and poked him hard in the chest. “Mister, I’ve jumped into hellfire alongside you and Razor…Jake…for countless missions. Did you honestly think I’d arrest you the first chance I got?”

            “Your name’s Feral, isn’t it?” Chance blurted out. He cringed a half second later and sighed. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

            “No, I didn’t. But I do deserve some answers. And Callie probably does too.”

            Chance crossed his arms. “And you’re not out to screw us?”

            “Would it help if I took a lie detector test? You two probably have one lying around.”

            Chance chuckled at the joke. “That, we don’t have.” He relaxed a bit. “Fine. What exactly do you want to know?”

            “Is it true?” Felina asked. “The skyport incident. Your crash. Was…was my uncle responsible?”

            Chance sucked on his lower lip for a few seconds. “It happened. It was our tag, he clipped us, we crashed. He puts the blame on us, and here we are.”

            “And you didn’t fight him on it?”

            “Oh, I wanted to.” Chance growled. “But your dear old uncle, piece of work that he is, he worked too damn well. We were blackballed. Nobody left to believe us, no evidence left to exonerate us, and even the members of our squadron refused to talk to us.” Felina stood, nodding slowly to that. Chance calmed down a bit, as the pain of it faded away again. “And then Jake got the idea that we could still keep doing our jobs, even without our jobs. Nobody was paying any attention to us out here. So we stopped making noise.”

            “You let Megakat City forget about you…and you started over.” Felina went over to the section of wing lying on the ground and grunted as she hefted one end of it up. “Out here, surrounded by junk…” She paused and shook her head. “No. Not junk. Equipment and planes, abandoned before their time.” She locked eyes with Chance again. “Like you. Did you _really_ make the Turbokat out of spare parts like this?”

            Chance grinned at the question. “It’s amazing what you can find in a salvage yard. Hang on, lemme help you with that.” Though he strained slightly, having her help him load the last wing strut onto the truck was easier than hauling it himself. “So now you know the truth. What are you going to do with it?”

            “Nothing.” Felina said instantly. At the confused look on Chance’s face, she flicked her ears in annoyance. “What can I do? If I confront my uncle about this, he might get suspicious. He’ll crack down on the few kats who know the truth about it, make their lives hell. Worse, he might come after you two. And this city needs the SWAT Kats. Even if he won’t admit it, I can. What happened was wrong, and I can’t make it right. But you two have. And kats are proud of you.”

            Chance cocked his head to the side. “You know something, Felina?”

            “What?” She asked him.

            Chance blinked at her. “You’re crazy.”

            “Well, that’s not too surprising. This fighter jock I kind of like is crazy too.” She teased him with a smile.

            Chance swelled up a bit at that, and actually cracked a grin. “What would your uncle say about you chasing a washout like me?”

            “You’re no washout, Chance. You’re a hero.”

            “Really?”

            “Lemme think.” She sauntered in close and sized him up. “Secret identity? Wears a mask? Protects the city without ever getting paid for it? Sure sounds like a hero to me.”

            Against his better judgment, Chance wrapped his large, striped arms around her torso and pulled her in close. He ended up looking down into her eyes with a smirk as his voice dropped to a low, rumbling purr. “You know, Felina, there’s something else that goes along with being a hero.”

            “What’s that?” She countered, bringing her own arms around his body and pressing her paws against the flat of his back.

            “They get the girl.”

            “Funny, Furlong, I’m pretty sure I’m not the damsel in distress.” Felina said, her eyes sparkling. She inched in closer, but stayed just out of range of his lips, teasing him.

            “Well…I suppose I could compromise on that.” Chance concluded with a smile. And then he did what the unconscious part of him had been wanting to do to Felina for months. He kissed her.

 

***

 

_Mayor’s Office_

_Megakat City_

_The Next Day_

 

            “…And so, we dedicaaaate this new Senior Center in honor of one of Megakat City’s most respected former public servants, Judge Mellswood.” Mayor Manx rattled on, dictating his speech for the opening of the city’s newest public facility. He stood at his rolled out golf mat, his latest putter in his hand as he sized up his shot. “The Mellswood Senior Center will provide space for the elderly members of our community to gather, to enjoy life, to…”

            He paused in the middle of his setup and listened for the telltale scribbling of a pen on paper, but heard nothing. Manx glanced back to Callie, who was supposed to be taking down his dictation at her seat over by the window. Instead, she was staring blankly out of it over the Megakat City skyline.

            “Callie?” The mayor hoisted his new putter up over his shoulder and looked in her direction. “Are you all right?”

            She jolted a bit and looked back to him. “Oh. Sorry, Mayor.”

            “Perfectly all right, m’dear. Even I’m prone to a daydream every now and then.” He considered their situation for a moment, then motioned to her legal pad. “Even for shorthand, that seems a bit absent. Did you get all of that?”

            “No…I think I may have missed a paragraph or two.” Callie admitted, shaking her head. “But I’ll work it out. It’ll be ready tomorrow morning, plenty of time for you to look it over before the dedication ceremony.”

            “I’m quite certaaihn of that, Callie.” Manx smiled. “But if y’don’t mind me saying so, you’ve obviously got your mind elsewhere. Considering your accident, it’s understandable.”

            Callie winced at that. Everywhere she turned, people were offering hollow words of sympathy for her after the accident. Some of the bandages had been removed, but there were still two that her doctor had insisted on her wearing. None of them understood how deeply the loss of her car had struck her. Most just assumed she was still dealing with the shock of the event and was traumatized.

            Mental trauma had never entered into it, though. After all the near-death scrapes since she’d taken the office, a simple car accident seemed like kitten’s play. She had just lost too much. Was still losing things. Again, she thought of Jake. Razor. The line between the mechanic she’d become attracted to and the vigilante she trusted with her life with had been blurred, and she wasn’t sure how to piece it together. Not while she was sitting here, anyways.

            “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” Manx suggested. “Go do something that relaxes you. You can’t be focused on the job all the time.”

            “Mayor Manx, there’s still things that need doing…”

            “And I’ll get them done, Callie.” Her balding, aged superior countered cheerfully. “I’ve been mayor a long time. Just because I like to take it easy now doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to do my job.”

            Callie stared blankly at him, and his smile dissipated. “What’s wrong, Callie?” He asked.

            “I’m just a little surprised at your generosity.”

            “It’s not generosity. It’s common sense.” Manx said, shaking his head. “Between you and me, the sort of trouble this city gets into…I’m out of my depth with it. But you, Callie, you _thrive_ in life or death situaaations. I can tussle with the city council and handle the day to day affairs, but anymore…I’ve come to rely on you. Not to _do_ my job, but to handle the things that I’ve not the barest idea of how to deal with.” He met her puzzled gaze with a flat expression. “The fact is, I’m more of a politician, and you’re more of a leader. Some day, I’ll either have a heart attack or a stroke or something else, or I’ll just get tired of the job, and I’ll be gone, and you’ll be left here on your own.”

            “What?” She stammered. “But you…you never…”

            Manx shrugged. “Why do you think I hired you, Miss Briggs, and not somebody established to be the deputy mayor? I could have, but I wanted a fresh kat. A bit of it was me being lazy, hoistin’ off all that work on you…But most of it was me training you, showing you how to take my place.” He harrumphed, and a bit of his dry humor returned. “Only thing was, somewhere along the line, Megakat City ended up attracting supervillains and the SWAT Kats, and spinning out of control. And you didn’t flinch, not like I did. I’ve seen glimpses of it for a long time now, the strength you really have. I can maneuver in politics, but you have a will, and a sense of leadership which makes kats respect you without the games and the deals. Day might come, this citaayy decides it needs someone like you more than someone like me.”

            His sudden praise, all of it, left Callie stunned for several seconds. He waited patiently for her to recover, and to speak, expecting she would have questions.

            “Why are you telling me this?” She asked at length. “Why say all of this now?”

            “You never needed to hear it before.” Manx explained. “Most importantly, there’s one thing left that I _can_ teach you, and maybe now, you’ll believe me when I say it to you.” He pointed at her. “If you don’t take some time for yourself every now and then, this job will eat you alive. So for once, listen to your boss and use some vacation. So long as Daaahk Kat or any of those other damned nuisances don’t pop their heads up, I can keep the wheels spinning in your absence.” He shooed her towards the door. “Go on, then. We gave you a new car for a reason. Use it. After all, it seems there’s somewhere else you’d rather be right now.”

 

            His words seemed to finally sink in, and she smiled weakly. “I guess so. Thank you, sir.”

            “No, Callie. Thank _you_.” He replied. She set the legal pad down, collected her purse, and tore out the door at a pace he didn’t think was possible in high heels.

 

            Manx chuckled and collected the legal pad, staring at the shorthand scribbles for a moment and mentally decrypting it. “Ahh, Callie.” He sighed. She’d recorded even less than he’d originally thought. He’d need to get on his computer for a change, and type up his own speech.

 

            He paused for a moment, then went over to his desk and buzzed his intercom, hailing his secretary. “Mrs. Willoughby…I don’t suppose you know how to turn my computer on?”

 

***

 

_Enforcer Headquarters_

_Commander Feral’s Office_

 

 

            Lieutenant Felina Feral, CO of the 6th ‘Tactical Response’ Squadron stood at parade rest in front of her uncle’s desk as he reviewed the printed proposal she’d sent to him the day before. On her day off, no less. From time to time, he would glance up to glean some hidden bit of information from her, but she was even more unreadable than usual.

            “Let me get this straight.” He said, setting the report down and trying his level best to keep from biting the sentence out with a growl. “You want to hold training exercises in the Megakat Desert.”

            “Yes.” Came her quick, matter-of-fact reply.

            “With Shortclaw Air Base as the staging area.”

            “Yes.”

            “…And you planned on inviting the SWAT Kats. As _instructors_.”

            “Yes.”

 

            “As you and I both know my personal feelings on the matter, perhaps you can tell me why you thought this was such a good idea to begin with.” Feral closed the manila folder and pushed it away from him, and finally affixed a glower on his niece.

            “Since I’ve joined the Enforcers, I’ve had to work side by side with them more than half a dozen times to resolve crisis situations.” Felina explained. “And I’ve learned quite a bit about their combat styles, both on the ground and in the air. They endorse nonlethal tactics, but still get results. That’s the kind of job performance we’d hand out commendations for. I’ve been looking for ways to improve the 6th Squadron, and this seems like a very real, very feasible option.”

            “And if we did this, we’d be endorsing those vigilantes. Validating them!” Feral snapped, slamming a fist down on his desk with a heavy smack. “It wasn’t so very long ago that I had open arrest warrants for both of their sorry tails!”

            “Yes, which you let _expire_ , uncle. So obviously, you’ve begun to accept reality. That we need them.” Felina argued. “They get results! They don’t have to worry about regulations, or the bureaucracy. They don’t even get paid for what they do, as far as I know. They save lives, and they put down the threat.”

            “There’s a difference between ignoring them in favor of the greater danger and including them in training exercises!” Feral yelled back at her. “They’re criminals! You may like them, because they wear those outfits and they have incredible gear and because they’re not constrained like we are, but they’re _criminals!_ ”

            “They’re not criminals, they’re heroes!” Felina stepped to his desk and set her paws down on the edge, leaning over it. “You’re too wrapped up in your own misguided hatred for the SWAT Kats to see it!”

            He rose up to meet her, his enormous frame towering over her own. “I answer to elected authority. The _Enforcers_ answer to elected authority, to the mayor! We’re an appointed force, given the power to operate by those the public has put into office! **Who do they answer to?!”**

There was something to be said for Ferals, and that was that stubbornness seemed to run in the family. They stood on opposite sides of the chasm of opinion, yelling at the top of their lungs.

            The difference between uncle and niece had never been so clear to Felina as it was then.

            Not breaking eye contact, refusing to surrender in the staring contest, she jammed her left arm straight out away from her body and pointed towards the window. Even with the blinds drawn, thin ribbons of sunlight streamed in from outside. The sunlight over Megakat City, a sprawling supermetropolis with millions and millions of katizens.

            “Them.” She spat the word out.

            “Like Hell they do.”

            “Not the politicians.” Felina snarled. “Not the mayor, or his cronies, or the corrupt corporate executives like Tiger Conklin.” That scored a point, as Feral’s eyes wavered for a moment. The president of the mining company that Felina had been sent to investigate was locked down in the basement cells, awaiting trial for illegal toxic waste dumping, the deaths of scores of workers, lying to Enforcers, reckless endangerment, and more. That had been the case which had cemented Felina’s respect for the two SWAT Kats.

            “They answer to the kats of this city. The ones who don’t have ridiculous amounts of money, or influence. The ones who are just voices. Have you seen their latest public approval scores? 78 percent. The Enforcers? 51 percent. So what does it tell you, _uncle_ , when the citizens of the city we’re appointed to serve and protect think that the SWAT Kats are better public servants than we are?”

            “That they don’t know what they want.” Feral said, though much of his angry, self-righteous bluster was missing. He even looked away. “They only like those damned vigilantes so much because they swoop in and save the day at the last minute. But they’re not around all the time. We are.”

            “Exactly.” Felina jumped on his argument, and easily circumvented it. “The SWAT Kats _can’t_ be everywhere, all of the time. But we can. So if we can learn to tackle problems like they do, if we can be flexible in how we react, maybe we can do a better job of it.”

            Feral stared at his niece for a full ten seconds, looking for some bit of weakness, for some part of her to break. It never came.

            “You really believe that, don’t you?” He said, realizing it.

            “I believe in them.” Felina said. “After the Zed incident, it’s never been clearer. We owe them our lives, uncle. The least we can give them is our trust.”

            Feral shook his head. “Felina…” He sat back down and pressed a hand to his forehead. “It’s a dangerous precedent, and I’ll have no part of it. Even if they do have the best intentions at heart in what they do, they’re still criminals. Vigilantism is a felony. If kats don’t have respect for the proper authorities, then everything our society is based on, the rule of law, it’s meaningless. And we may as well do away with it all, and live in the kind of lawless land ruled by the powerful that Dark Kat’s always trying to create.” Feral reached for a stamp pad full of red ink, then a stamper, and after a quick application of ink, slammed the rubber stamp onto the proposal. When he lifted it away, the **_Request Denied_** stood out clearly. He picked up the proposal and handed it back to Felina. “Lieutenant Feral, your request for training exercises, using the SWAT Kats as instructors, is officially denied.”

            Felina bit her lip. “I see. So, we what? Do business as usual? Keep letting kats die out there without meaning? We keep fielding our own officers, knowing that we’re sending them to die because of constraining regulations?”

            “We do our jobs, Felina.” Feral told her, seeming very tired just then. The fatigue caused her to stop in her seething tirade and look at him. _Really_ look at him.

            How well and truly worn out he seemed. He’d always been an enormous giant of a tom, with an impressive physicality that bespoke the alpha male’s dominance, and rightness to command. Right then, he just seemed lost.

            She’d won the argument, Felina realized, but he refused to give it to her.

            “Funny. I’d always thought that if the job was too much for you, you quit and let somebody else get it done.” She ventured.

            “I’ve warned you about insubordination before, Felina.” Feral looked up, a glimmer of illogical rage and hatred sparking at that. “Maybe I ought to just disband the 6th Squadron. It’s been nothing but trouble since it was created.”

            And Felina wanted to snap back at him for that. Oh, how she wanted to. _Get rid of me just like you got rid of Furlong and Clawson?_ A lifetime’s worth of injustices all seemed to pile up and be concentrated in that one sentence.

            But she didn’t say it. Couldn’t. Her uncle wanted to be an ass? Let him. She would provide no fuel to the fire that might lead to her shortsighted, self-assured relative and superior uncovering the truth of the outcomes of his hubris.

            She couldn’t risk exposing them. Exposing Chance.

 

            “Permission to be dismissed, Commander?” Felina asked, returning to a more neutral tone of voice. Swallowing all that pride back was hard, and her own admiration and respect for Chance increased. She’d had to do it for two minutes. He’d been doing it for years.

            “Go.” Feral muttered. “And don’t bring this up again.”

            Lieutenant Feral came to attention, snapped off a quick salute, and made an about face.

            “Felina.” Feral stopped her before she could take a step. She paused and waited. “What you choose to do while you’re off-duty is no concern of mine. You might look into some advanced self-defense courses. Something you could teach the men in your command.”

            Felina didn’t turn around to look at him. She barely breathed. Had her uncle just…?

           

            “Move on, then. You make a poor floor ornament.” Feral added gruffly, and got back to shuffling papers.

            Not once looking back, Felina made for the exit. It was a poor victory, but one that she could take. To a very small degree, it seemed, Commander Ulysses Feral was willing to look the other way.

            She smiled as she closed the door to his office behind her.

            It was a start.

 

***

 

_Megakat Salvage Yard_

_5:08 P.M._

            Chance stepped back inside the garage, hitting the switch to drop the doors. The mechanical winch whirred as the slats descended along their track, taking the fading sun away from view.

            “Well, we’re done for the day then.” He said cheerfully. “The sign’s turned around, the doors are shut.”

            “Yeah, okay.” Jake didn’t even bother looking up from his current project, the last steps in redoing the wiring to a car whose automatic locks and windows were fritzing. Once he finished, he’d just have to put the driver’s side door paneling back into place. With his paws full of the leads to his ohmmeter, he couldn’t even wave. “If you have a minute, go check the Turbokat for me. I’ve got the wingstruts refabricated and in place, but I wouldn’t mind a second opinion.”

            “You want me to give the control surfaces a wiggle from the cockpit, see how it feels?”

            “Seeing as we can’t fly it yet, yeah. That’ll be the closest thing to a field test we can manage.”

            Chance scratched at a bit of stuck on dust on the front of his mechanic’s uniform. “Maybe we oughta rig a wind tunnel up down there.”

            That made Jake finally break his gaze away from his work and give his friend a _very_ dry expression. Chance laughed nervously. “I’d…do most of the work?” He offered.

            “Very funny, Chance.” Jake got back to work with a sigh.

            “Well, it’s not like you can have me fix the radar scrambler, sureshot.” His friend snorted. “But I can at least knock some holes in the wall.”

            “It’s not just putting a hole in the existing bunker structure and digging out the dirt, Chance. We also need to calculate the space needed, the placement of the new load bearing columns, the wiring setup, then we’d have to actually _find_ the fans to generate the wind, and set up a new ventilation induction system to…”

            “All right, all right. I get it. It’s a lot of work. Just an idea, Jake, we don’t have to do it right this second.”

            “Or this year.” Jake muttered.

            “So are you going to come help me figure out dinner?” Chance changed the subject.

            “You go on ahead. Just as long as it isn’t your Mondo Pepper Five Alarm Chili, I’ll eat whatever. I want to finish this before I come in tonight.”

            “Okay. Just don’t work too hard, all right? Kat’s gotta eat.”

 

            “Go on.” Jake shooed Chance away with a jerk of his head. “I’ll catch up.”

            His larger friend made one last grunt and left the garage.

 

            Jake finally had his ohmmeter put away, and was getting ready to slide the car’s interior panel back into place when he heard the sound of an unfamiliar car rolling up outside of the building. He rolled his eyes and kept working, hoping that whoever was there would see the ‘Closed’ sign and leave them in peace.

            The knock at the shop’s locked, normal-sized door brought those hopes to an abrupt end. He tensed up and gnashed his teeth. “Just ignore them. Maybe they’ll go away.” He said to himself.

            Another two knocks followed. “Read the sign, you idiot.” Jake grunted out for the benefit of his own ears. He set the interior panel back into place and relaxed as he felt the plastic tabs finish snapping home.

            Another pair of knocks. Harder than he had to, Jake slammed the door of his finished car shut and stormed towards the knocking. From his angle, he couldn’t see who was standing outside, but they were working on his last nerve.

            This time, four knocks, harder than before. “Oh, that _tears it!”_ He snapped. Reaching the door, he ripped it open, and was already yelling before he stuck his head out. “It’s after five o’clock, we’re closed!” He lambasted the pesky customer. He froze when his brain kicked into gear, and he recognized who was standing there.

            Deputy Mayor Calico Briggs had done away with her pink power suit, and she wasn’t even wearing her usual Saturday morning blue jeans. Instead, she was dressed in a pink sweatshirt and sweatpants, which he hadn’t seen her in since Dr. Viper flooded Megakat City with his mutating swamp. She still had a couple of bandages on her face, matting the fur underneath, but she was as beautiful as ever.

            “Uh.” He stammered. Callie raised an eyebrow over her glasses. “Sorry. I…”

            “Thought I was just another customer who couldn’t read the sign.” She finished.

            “Yeah. That.” Jake rubbed at the back of his head. He looked away from her and spotted an unfamiliar car, a small, white, modern, sporty sedan out in front of the garage. “Yours?” He asked dumbly.

            Callie looked to the car, then back to him. “Yes. The mayor insisted on leasing a replacement for me. It’s got airbags, power windows, power locks, even a CD player.”

            “He probably insisted on the airbags after…” Jake started, but went quiet again.

            “It gets me from place to place, but it’s not the same.” Callie intervened, and saved him from another stumble. Neither said anything for a bit after that, with Jake even digging the toe of his boot into the concrete floor as he looked conspicuously in every direction that wasn’t right at her. “Can I come in, Jake?”

            Deflating a bit, he nodded and stepped out of her path. She brushed by him, walked through the garage, and headed in for the living room. After mentally kicking himself for a few seconds, Jake closed the door again and followed her.

 

            She was waiting for him in the living room, and Chance was conspicuously absent. Jake made a puzzled glance around before dismissing the thought and focusing on Callie. “So…how’ve you been?” He asked weakly.

            “You mean, besides the accident, losing the last link to my father, and finding out the mechanics I’ve been friends with for years are actually the same guys who’ve been saving Megakat City for even longer?” Callie deadpanned. “I’ve been better.”

            “I didn’t think you’d find out.” Jake said.

            “No. You were _hoping_ I wouldn’t find out.” She slammed his pitiable excuse down easily. “Why couldn’t you trust me?”

            “Knowing our identities would put you at risk. Not just from the maniacs we fight, but if you ever got pressured by Feral, by some court summons…” Jake waved between them. “I was trying to keep you safe. Better that you wouldn’t have to lie, or be used as a hostage against us.”

            “Yes, that worked marvelously, didn’t it.” Callie sniped. “How many times have I had to stare down the barrel of a gun, or worse, since you and T-Bo… _Chance_ first gave me my communicator?”

            _A lot_ , Jake thought, but did not answer.

            Callie folded her arms. “There’s…so much I want to be angry at you for. Lying to me for so long. Hanging up on me, that night, when I figured it out. And not…”

            She and Jake looked in opposite directions as she tried to compose herself again, and he remained mute as ever.

            “It wasn’t that you were ashamed.” She went on, a slight tremor in her voice refusing to go away. “And you’re wrong. You weren’t avoiding me to keep me safe.”

            “I wasn’t?” Jake retorted.

            Her blond hair bounced ever so slightly as she offered a miniscule nod. “So what’s the real reason?”

            Jake took off his hat. “Chance and me…we’re good. But we’re not getting any younger. Some day, something might happen. We’ll fly into action, and we won’t come back.” He looked at her carefully. “It wasn’t just about protecting our identities, Callie. It was also about sparing your feelings. You should find someone who will be there all the time. Someone who will still be alive when the dust settles.”

            “You’re still making excuses.”

            “Well then, what do you want me to say?” He asked her despairingly.

            “You either tell me the truth now, or we yell back and forth, and I get the truth out of you anyways.” Callie said. She pointed a finger before he could start. “Remember what my day job is, buster. I’ll argue circles around you. So before you say anything, just close your eyes for me.”

            He blinked. “What?”

            Callie poked him in the chest. “Close your eyes. Count to 10. Don’t say anything. Just think. Really think hard about it. And then tell me what kept you from opening up.”

            Jake hadn’t been exactly sure what to expect the next time that Callie appeared in his life, but he’d been expecting a lot more yelling and crying than this. As he reflected on his incorrect assumptions, losing himself in her emerald eyes, he realized why.

            She was so strong. After everything that life had thrown at her, she still found the ability to keep forging on. He’d thought she would fall into hysterics. But that wasn’t her.

            That wasn’t the shekat he was head over heels for. She’d cried over it, there was too much redness and puffiness around her eyes, there under the eyeliner. But she’d cried before, got herself in order. She was facing him straight on, not hiding behind weakness. Could he do any less?

            “Please, Jake.” She whispered.

            Jake closed his eyes, and his marvelous mind spun away.

            It wasn’t her. Not really. His two lives, his worries for her, his desire to see her happy, they weren’t the real reasons that kept him hesitating. Kept making him pull back.

            They were all masks. His life was full of them. He saw himself in front of a mirror, staring back at himself. Mask after mask, carefully layered, precisely arranged. Jake envisioned them, and he imagined his paws reaching up. Tearing them away. One mask at a time, the lies, the self-portraits he kept were torn away.

            Razor, the SWAT Kat.

            Razor, the vigilante.

            Razor, the defender.

            Jake, the car mechanic.

            Jake, the dishonorably discharged Enforcer.

            Jake, the forgotten genius.

 

            At last, the last mask fell away. The edifice crumbled, walls made hollow and collapsed.

            He saw himself at last. Battered. Broken. Worn down by life. His aspirations, his dreams, his heart, crushed. His ragged body curled up tightly to keep everyone away.

            Jacob Clawson.

 

            He opened his eyes, and there was the blurry figure of Callie, still standing less than a foot away from him, waiting for his answer. He reached up and touched the fur under his left eye, feeling the dampness there.

            “It’s not you.” Jake said. He pulled his paw away from his eye and stared at his fingertips. Wet also.

            “Then what is it?” Callie’s shoulder twitched, as if to reach for him, but she stopped herself. “It’s not what you do. Or what I do.”

            “No.”

            “Just tell me.” She begged. “Tell me!”

            It would have been so easy to construct another lie. To reach for another mask.

            But it wouldn’t be the truth. It wouldn’t be real.

            She would see through it. And why bother lying? What good would it do him now? Do her?

            “ _TELL ME_!” She yelled at him. He stood on top of the pile of rubble that was his life, and the force of her cry knocked him back. With nothing left, not even ground to stand on, he fell.

            At long last, he fell.

            “It’s ME!” He got out. “It wasn’t you! It was me!”

            She could have laughed at him for it, and even he had to admit with a sad little hiccup how ridiculous it probably sounded. _It’s not you, it’s me._ Was he really so pathetic?

            Callie didn’t laugh. “Why?” She coaxed him gently.

            “Because I’ve been hurt before.” He offered, quieting to a sobering moan. “Because not getting close to anyone…it’s just easier.”

            “ _This_ is easy?” She demanded.

            “No. It isn’t. It hurts.” Jake’s voice cracked with a sickly chuckle. “Most of the time, I don’t think about. Don’t…don’t let myself think about it. And you don’t let it show. You don’t ever let anyone see you like this.” He was rambling now, knew it, but didn’t care enough to stop himself. Or he was too tired to stop himself. He was falling apart. _And she may as well see it. See the bullet she dodged._ “That’s the only lesson about feelings I ever got from my family. And now my mother’s dead, but I can’t even go home to see her grave. My father, my brother and sister, they buried her, wouldn’t let me even come. Because I’m just a disgrace to them.”

            Callie’s face melted into shock. “Jake, I didn’t…I’m sorry…” She reached for his arm, but he backpedaled away from her, laughing in that crazed way again.

            “Nobody from the Enforcers, nobody from the Academy, any of my contacts at Pumadyme ever call me up, or call me back. I gave up trying. Even she left me. Because I’m a disgrace. It didn’t matter that I loved her. She didn’t care. The day we walked…got kicked off…sent here for the rest of our lives…nobody stayed.” He wiped away his tears on the back of his sleeve and looked away. “It isn’t easy. It’s never been easy.” Jake looked to Callie, the last shred of himself broken and laid bare before her. “But it hurts less this way. That’s what I learned the first day we stepped foot in this junkyard, Callie. What everything reinforces. Don’t get close to anyone. Then nobody can hurt you.”

            It was a lot to take in, but Callie, like any female, tuned into one part of his argument, spinning on it. “Who was she?”

            Jake shook his head. “Just some girl I was going to marry. Doesn’t matter now.”

            “And because of her…all of them…you’ll never try again?”

            “It hurts less.”

            She refused to turn her gaze. “Chance didn’t leave you.”

            “He was in the same boat I was. Where would he have gone?”

            “He could have left you, too. But he didn’t. He stayed.”

            He looked away for a moment, and that was all it took. Callie crashed into him, and he could feel her arms curling around his body, over his chest. He felt the pounding of her heart against his back…and her warm breath against the hair on his neck as she buried her face in it. He froze, wanting to move, to tear her away, yet unable to.

            “Did I ever hurt you?” She asked softly.

            “There was that one time at Megakat Towers, when you clocked me with a fire extinguisher.”

            Her claws dug into him through his shirt. “Don’t joke. Not now.” She warned him. “Have I ever hurt you?”

            “…No.”

            “Do you think I will?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Well, you’ve hurt me, Jake.” Callie told him. He stood rigid, afraid to say anything. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

            His breathing hitched at that.

            “Well?” She went on, still not letting him go. “Ask me why.”

            “I know why.” Jake said raggedly. “But…doesn’t it matter?”

            “What, exactly, would matter?”

            “That I’m just a junkyard kat.”

            “No.”

            “That I’m a mess?” He tried.

            “Who isn’t?” She deflected.

            “What if I can’t shake this? What if I’m too broken to be the tom you deserve?”

            “You built a jet out of scrap and save the city almost on a weekly basis. Try.” Callie shut him down.

            She was just as persistent as she’d promised him, and all of his arguments were exhausted. She’d cracked him apart, leaving him scrambling to pick up the pieces.

            He couldn’t rebuild himself, not as he’d been. _Shouldn’t even try._ But standing there, with the blond shekat of his dreams clinging to him, he was finally broken enough to realize he didn’t have to.

            So Jake turned around, feeling her arms loosening just enough to allow it, and then pulled her tight against his chest. She ducked her head down, and he rested his chin on top of her head.

            Jacob Clawson built up his walls once more. But now, she was inside of them. It didn’t hurt, he realized. It just felt right.

 

            She purred as he stroked along her back. He smiled a little, at last penitent for how he’d been. “I’m sorry.” He apologized.

            “It’s all right. You’ll find some way to make up for it.” Callie pulled her head back and smirked at him. “You could show me where you keep the Turbokat.”

            “Tempting.” Jake let go of her and gently touched her noise with a forefinger. “But we’re still getting it repaired.” He looked up, thinking for a moment, then nodded. “But there’s something else I could show you.”

            “Uh, if you were going to show me the backseat of the Thunder Truck, cowboy, you might be getting ahead of yourself.”

            He did a double take at that before realizing she’d been yanking his tail. Settling back down, he ran a hand through his headfur and doubled back to the garage, beckoning for her to follow. “Come on. You’ll like it.” She glanced at him dubiously, but kept pace with him. Her paw slipped into his unconsciously, and while he started a little, he didn’t pull away.

 

            Jake didn’t take her into the garage, but led her out a back door to the unseen rear side of the garage. There, kept under a tarpaulin was a vehicle of some kind.

            “What kind of a vehicle is this going to be when it’s finished?” Callie asked.

            “A car.” Jake replied.

            “What’s so special about it?”

            “Easy.” Jake reached for the tarp and pulled it off with theatrical flair. “It’s yours.”

 

            And it was hers. A green ’64 Longclaw. She gasped, fingers coming up and covering her lips. But it wasn’t the jackknifed mess that Callie had last seen it as. Her father’s car no longer had a broken spine, yet was still very much a work in progress. The Gullwing doors were missing, and the interior was bare down to the metal frame.

 

            “But…Chance said…” Callie broke away from Jake and went to the sedan. She ran shaking fingers along the roof. The metal had either been pounded back into shape or replaced, and there was evidence of recent spot welds.

            Jake came up beside her, setting his paw beside hers. “He told you the truth. It’d cost you an arm and a leg to get it repaired.” She turned her head to look at him, and he nodded. “So I decided…I’d work on it in my spare time.”

            “Just how much spare time do you have, exactly?” She asked tremulously.

            “Not enough. But…I felt like doing it.” Jake leaned against the gutted Longclaw. “At the time, I was sure you’d never speak to me again. I meant to give it to you as a sort of farewell present.”

            Callie took off her glasses and wiped away fresh tears, of happiness this time. “For a guy as smart as you, you can be awfully dumb.”

            Jake’s ears flicked at the statement. “Yeah? How so?”

            She glomped onto him and planted a kiss on him before he could react. “Giving me this would have just sent me running back after you.”

            “Uh. Huh.” He said in a happy daze. “Well…happy birthday, I guess?”

            “It’s not my birthday.”

            “It might be, when I get this finished.” Jake pulled her in for another snuggle, and their noses touched, with a smile shared between their glittering eyes.

 

            “Well, heck, hopefully we get it done before that.” The loud, often obnoxious voice of Chance cut into their private moment, and the two kats jumped apart. Chance strolled out from the back door, his smug expression a clear indication he didn’t buy the ruse for an instant. “Glad to see you two worked things out.”

            “Chance…” Jake growled out warningly.

 

            “Don’t get too angry with him, Clawson. If the quarter had come up heads, I would’ve interrupted.” Lieutenant Felina Feral came out behind him, her Enforcers coat and shirt removed, but still in her olive green tank top. Like Chance, she seemed rather pleased at the scene. “So. Are you two okay now?”

            Jake and Callie looked to one another. He quirked an eyebrow, she rolled her eyes.

            “He’s still a goof. But yes, Felina. I think…I think we’re good.”

            “Terrific.” Chance clapped his paws together loudly. “So, then. Lina brought us a big pan of lasagna for dinner, and I just chucked it in the oven. It’ll be done in an hour, so if we hurry, we might be able to put some more of this car back together again.” The pet name stuck in the air, vibrating at a pace impossible to ignore.

            “Wait. So you two…” Jake pointed between them. Chance grinned like the happy-go-lucky fellow he was, and Felina folded her arms with an amused smile.

            “Surprised?” Felina said. “I thought it was more obvious than that.”

            “No…I’m just thinking Chance has a death wish. If Feral ever found out…”

            “ _If_ he finds out, he can choke on a hairball.” Felina resolved. “Until then, it’s none of his damn business who I hang out with. So. Are we fixing a car tonight, or not?”

            “Oh, we’re fixing a car.” Chance promised her. “Right, Jake?”

 

            At peace with himself after far too long, Jacob “Razor” Clawson looked to the three kats he was closest to in the world. And smiled.

            “I suppose it’d mean more if we all worked on it together. Okay, kats. Before we go crazy putting the upholstery back in, I was planning on making some modifications in the empty shell.”

            “Let me guess. Bulletproofing?”

            “More than that.” Razor grinned. “I’ve been working on an Agricite composite steel that’s been promising. If I’m right, it’ll do more than just keep Callie’s car from getting shot out, it’ll reinforce it from additional collisions.”

            “I’m not even going to bother asking where you got your hands on Agricite.” Felina said.

            “Even I don’t know where he digs up half this stuff.” Chance laughed, slipping on some heavy gloves before moving to a pile of sheet metal leaned up against the garage nearby.

            “Hey, it’s easy to find things if you keep them organized. I’m amazed you can find anything in your mess of a room.” Jake sniped back.

            “It’s not a mess, it’s controlled chaos!”

 

            “What would all your adoring fans think if they knew that Megakat City’s heroes were a couple of slobs in real life?” Callie sighed theatrically. Jake blushed a little and Chance just laughed it off. Callie caught Felina smiling at her then, and the blond-furred shekat found herself smiling back unconsciously. They both nodded at the same time, even.

            “Oh, speaking of messes, I glanced through the psych notes of Dr. Greenbox’s eval.” Felina went on. “You’d contacted him because you wanted Zed to repair a piece of the Turbokat, right?”

            “Yeah, the stealth module. Keeps the Enforcer radar network jammed so they can’t track us.” Chance said. “Right now, it’s pretty fragged.”

            “And the Turbokat doesn’t exactly lend itself well to stealth geometry, which makes RAM Coatings pretty worthless as an alternative.” Jake explained. “Until I can get the frequency oscillator running, we’re vulnerable.”

            “But if you knew the frequencies for, say, the next six months, you wouldn’t need the oscillator, right? The emitter still works?” Felina posited.

            Chance did a double take, setting the reinforced steel sheeting down on the ground beside the Longclaw. “Hang on. You know what the radar network is going to be for the next six months? Why would they plan it out that far ahead, and worse, write it down? That information falls in the wrong hands, the city could be at risk!”

            “I was planning on making a report to that exact effect, but I thought I might offer to share it with you first. I could probably keep you updated with frequency changes until you get it fixed.” Chance seemed ready to keep blustering on, but she stopped him by raising a hand up. “Chance, the Enforcers are Megakat City’s first line of defense, and you’re the last. I’m not just happy to help, it’s my obligation.”

            “Well…thanks, Felina.” The burly tom finally caved in. “So, what can I do to thank you for it?”

            “Easy. Let me train with you guys when I’ve got the time.”

            “Ooh.” Chance went from gracious to impish in a flash. “Reflex Room.”

            Felina blinked. “Reflex Room?”

            “Where we train. You’ll probably get a kick out of it, lieutenant.” Jake filled her in. “But we do get a little competitive. And as long as we’re doing that, how would you feel about learning a little self-defense, Callie?”

            The deputy mayor thought about it for a moment. “You’re going to teach me how to knee someone in the balls?”

            Jake chuckled, which Chance mirrored a half second later. “No. I’m going to teach you how to break someone’s wrist. Then their elbow. And their knee.”

            “And _then_ you knee them in the balls.” Chance guffawed. “Classic Jake.”

 

            As dinner cooked inside, two vigilantes worked to refit a car alongside the shekats they were closest to. Jake marveled at it all.

            How had they arrived here? He had thought that it was all done for. Their careers as SWAT Kats. Any hope of happiness. That even Megakat City was doomed.

            Yet here they were, still free kats. Feral none the wiser, and his niece dating Chance. And at his side, Callie. A female who didn’t run from him. Who didn’t care what he was, only who he was. She’d finally forced him to break through his shell. Reconstruct it.

            He still hurt, but for the first time in a long while, he saw hope. The last vestiges of his old life slipped away, and something better, something more honest took its place. A life that was more than the mission, more than just Chance. A life with her in it.

            His world could be as large or as small as it needed to be. For now, he shrank it in, until all that mattered were Callie, Felina, and Chance. Kats he fought beside. Kats he trusted. Kats who trusted him.

            _Anything worthwhile starts out with trust._ Some part of his always spinning brain latched on to that sentence. Hadn’t Callie said it, sometime long ago? She was right, of course. She’d always been right. _And you always think too much._

 

            Her delicate hand waved in front of his face, and he came to with several rapid blinks.

            “Jake? You zoned out there for a minute. Are you okay?” Callie asked him worriedly.

            God, she was beautiful. He smiled back at her and shook his head. “Just thinking how lucky I was.”

            “If you weren’t, we’d probably be dead by now from all those crazy ideas of yours, sureshot.” Chance snarked. “Now stop daydreaming and help me cut out this pattern.” Shaking his head, Jake did so.

 

            He could have kept musing, about how all of them working to fix up Callie’s old car was a symbol for Megakat City. It was damaged, bruised, a little broken, and more than a few kats had given up on it. But there was still hope for it, and for the kats who lived in it. It would just take work, honest work.

            Those were just details. Analogies. In the end, Jake had been struggling for a long time because he’d been trying to find justification for keeping on. Reasons. There, in the salvage yard, surrounded by the ones he loved and basking in their laughter and smiles, he had all the reasons he needed.

 

**THE END**


End file.
